


nobody else so we can be free

by hyruling



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2019-10-30 00:03:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 27,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17818055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyruling/pseuds/hyruling
Summary: Collection of mini fics/tumblr prompts.





	1. things you said after you kissed me

—

“Was that it?”

Mac frowns against Dennis’ mouth, heart still lodged in his throat. He leans back, and Dennis looks unimpressed.

“What do you mean?” Mac asks when he finds his voice. “I just kissed you dude.”

“I’m aware of that,” Dennis says.

“Then — what are you —“ Mac stammers. He tries to back away, but Dennis pulls him back in by his belt loops, and Mac’s heart stutters.

“I _mean_ ,” Dennis continues smoothly, face so close Mac can feel his breath puff against his lips. “Is that why you’ve been so goddamn annoying today?”

“Annoying? I’ve been romantic as shit,” Mac argues.

“Mac, we nearly got arrested for destruction of public property,” he says, nodding at the RPG lying incongruously on the bench.

“Yeah but I had that totally under control,” Mac says flippantly.

“And you burned the shit out of your arm.”

“That’s — it’s nothing, I barely even felt it,” he lies.

“And now, I’m standing in a rotting gazebo, surrounded by sewer water —“

“It’s a lake, Dennis,”

“— and to top it all off,” he continues, hands roaming up Mac’s side, making him shiver, “You didn’t even use tongue.”

Mac’s eyebrows crease. The panicked excuses he’d frantically tried to come up with to get out of this with his dignity intact come screeching to a halt.

“You mean — you, uh, you wanted —?”

“Jesus Christ Mac,” Dennis sighs, rolling his eyes and pulling Mac closer, lips slotting against his.

Mac’s hands fist in Dennis’ shirt, tongue running along his bottom lip. Dennis sighs softly as he opens his mouth, and Mac smiles.

“Told you I was romantic,” he hums against Dennis’ mouth.

“Shut the fuck up,” Dennis says, hands carding into Mac’s hair as he pulls him back in.

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from 'all the things she said' by tatu because i'm unimaginative and lazy
> 
> [xo](http://hyruling.tumblr.com)


	2. things you said when you thought I was asleep

—

“God you’re disgusting.”

Dennis’ voice rings harshly through the fog in his mind. He’s so drunk it barely registers as real, he thinks for a minute he’s already dreaming. He mumbles vaguely, rolling onto his side, too tired to respond appropriately.

He hears Dennis pad away. He nods off for a few minutes, and is awoken by a wet cloth on his face.

He swats indiscriminately, hands flying around his head, grumbling angrily. Dennis’ cool fingers close around his wrists.

“Jesus, even your wrists are fat now,” Dennis mutters to himself.

“‘s mass,” he mumbles into the pillow.

He feel Dennis start; he must have thought Mac was already passed out. Mac rolls onto his back, and Dennis again wipes at his face with the washcloth.

He pokes and prods at Mac until he’s sitting upright, then makes him change into a clean shirt, the cotton soft and worn. Dennis tugs off his jeans, and Mac is so drunk he doesn’t even react, just falls back onto the pillows with a sigh as Dennis struggles to pull them over his feet.

Five minutes later the bed dips as Dennis sits on the edge. Mac groggily opens his eyes to see Dennis throw his pillow across the room and replace it with one from his room.

“What’re you doin’?” he slurs.

“Well I’m obviously not using your pillow. It reeks of your gross hair gel.”

“But… you’re in _my_ bed,” Mac presses, confused. He can’t focus on anything beyond the nauseating way the room is spinning and the feel of Dennis’ leg brushing against his under the covers.

“Yes, Mac. Between the sleep apnea and the fifteen shots of tequila you had tonight, there’s roughly a ninety percent chance you’ll die if I leave you alone.”

He says it so nonchalantly, so matter of fact. If Mac were in any other condition he’d fight it, but Dennis is so warm, and he’s so sleepy. He closes his eyes and rolls towards Dennis, throws his arm over his waist without thinking about it. Dennis makes a quiet noise of dissent, but he doesn’t push Mac away.

“‘t was national tequila day,” he murmurs in Dennis’ ear.

“I know,” Dennis says quietly. He feels him wiggle closer surreptitiously, and he smiles.

“I don’ have sleep apnea,” he mumbles, voice muffled in Dennis’ shirt.

Dennis just sighs and rolls to face him. His arm snakes up over Mac’s side, and he pushes forward until his head is resting under Mac’s chin. Mac’s arm lays heavily over his waist, trapping him against chest.

“Go to sleep Mac,” Dennis whispers.

Mac dozes off, but before he’s completely gone he swears he hears Dennis mutter a quiet “I love you,” into his neck.

—


	3. things you said while we were driving

–

“You’re coming back right?”

Dennis sighs, rolling his eyes because this is the fifth time Mac has asked in the last twenty minutes, and roughly the two-hundredth time since he bought the ticket.

He looks over at Mac. His face is screwed up and anxious; Dennis reaches over the cup holders to cover Mac’s hand with his.

“Yes, I’m coming back. I already promised, _and_ pinky promised.”

Mac’s hand grips Dennis’ tightly, fingers lacing together. “Yeah but you didn’t do the blood oath, so how can I _really_ be sure?”

“Jesus Christ Mac, again, I’m not doing a blood oath. That’s disgusting,” Dennis says. “I’m coming back, you have my itinerary remember? One week from today, you better be back here to pick me up.”

“I could come with you,” Mac offers again, voice a little smaller and more hesitant.

They come to a stoplight, and Dennis turns completely in his seat to look at Mac. He cups Mac’s face with his free hand, leaning in and kissing him softly. Mac melts into it, and Dennis feels his other hand grip his shirt fiercely, like he can keep him here by sheer force of will.

Dennis leans back, rubs his thumb over Mac’s cheek.

“I’m coming back,” he breathes. Mac still looks as though he doesn’t fully believe him, but he nods.

A horn blares behind them as the light changes, but Dennis ignores it and kisses Mac again, trying to communicate sincerity in that one gesture.

They honk again, and Dennis finally pulls away to drive, flipping off the asshole behind them as an afterthought.

They pull into the airport drop off zone, and Mac helps Dennis lug his suitcase onto the curb outside check in.

“Don’t wreck it while I’m gone,” Dennis warns, hand caressing the trunk as he closes it.

“I won’t, I know how to drive, Dennis,” Mac says, shaking his head as he arranges Dennis’ carry on over the handle of his suitcase. Dennis smiles as he struggles to get the straps in the right place, cursing under his breath.

He finally gets it right, and looks up at Dennis, grinning proudly. Dennis feels a surge of affection so strong it takes his breath away, and has a sudden urge to cancel the whole trip. But he can’t. Mandy is expecting him, and Brian Jr. sounded so excited last night, he couldn’t do that to him.

“I need to go, Mac,” he says, checking his watch. “Remember, same time next week. I don’t want to have to take a taxi because you forgot.”

“I won’t forget,” Mac assures him, stepping closer to where Dennis is leaning against the door of the Range Rover. “Have a good trip, and don’t forget to give Brian Jr. my present.”

“Are you still not going to tell me what it is?” Dennis asks, grabbing Mac’s wrists and pulling him closer, not caring that they’re in the middle of a busy airport.

“It’s a surprise,” Mac says, smiling secretively.

“I swear Mac, if TSA has to go through my shit because of your gift I’m gonna -”

Mac’s lips press against his before he can finish, his hands on Dennis’ neck. He kisses him deep, tongue moving against his hot and dirty like he’s trying to make sure Dennis won’t forget about him.

They break apart, and Mac holds up his pinky again.

“Mac, I already - “

“Just do it, Dennis.”

Dennis shakes his head and locks his pinky with Mac’s, presses another light kiss to his lips.

“I’m coming back. I promise.”

–


	4. things you said when you were crying

–

“For me?”

The words buzz in Mac’s ears all night, and his expression is permanently etched in his mind. He can’t stop thinking about it, keeps trying to recreate the moment over and over. Mac can count on one hand the number of times Dennis has been genuinely touched by something, that he’s seen him look like that, and this is the first time its been directed at Mac. 

Dennis is quiet the rest of the night. He tries to hide it, but Mac doesn’t miss the way his eyes seem to well up again every now and then. He feels a conflicting mix of pride and concern the more he does it. 

The bar finally starts to empty around midnight, and as soon as Charlie and Frank are out of sight, Dee talks them into leaving early. She doesn’t have to try hard to persuade them; they’re emotionally and physically drained from the day and agree as soon as she suggests it. The three of them sneak out while Charlie and Frank are distracted in the basement. 

When they get back to Dee’s, she immediately claims the first shower and stalks into her bedroom, ignoring Mac’s loud objection. 

He collapses on the couch, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back onto the cushion. He debates whether he’s going to break the rules and sleep out here tonight. The apartment was empty when the three of them arrived, so they may actually luck out and have the bed to themselves for the first time in months and not have to worry about Old Black Man crushing their feet. 

He lifts his head to ask Dennis’ opinion, but the words get caught in his throat. Dennis is still standing in Dee’s entryway, clutching the RPG to his chest and staring at the floor. 

“Dennis?” 

He stands and makes his way over to him slowly. Dennis doesn’t respond, he just continues to stand eerily still. As Mac gets closer he can hear that his breathing is ragged. 

“Dennis, hey, you okay dude?” 

He touches Dennis’ shoulder, and jumps when Dennis rears back like he’s been burned. 

“Shit, sorry,” Mac says, holding his hands up apologetically. Dennis’ expression is wild, and he has tears tracking down his face, bits of mascara smudged under his eyes. 

“Dennis? Come on man, what’s going on?” Mac asks, voice as gentle as he can possibly make it. 

And then he’s looking at him like that again. Eyes wide and disbelieving, mouth parted, crease lines appearing between his eyebrows. 

Before Mac can question him any further, the RPG clatters to the floor and Dennis is pulling him in by his collar and kissing him. Mac can taste salt as Dennis’ lips part, and tugs him in close. He lifts his hands to his face without breaking the kiss, thumbs brushing away the tears and guiding his face as he deepens the kiss. 

Dennis breaks away suddenly, eyes wide and terrified. Before Mac can speak or catch his breath, Dennis is pushing past him and into Dee’s bedroom, closing the doors behind him. 

His head spins, brain trying desperately to catch up and make sense of what just happened. He wants to follow him, to figure out what the hell that was, but something tells him to keep his distance. He grabs a blanket and curls up on Dee’s couch, unable to calm his racing heart for what feels like hours. 

–


	5. things you said when you were scared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (sort of deleted scene from 'tonight, in this house, we drown')

-

“Dennis! Dennis open up, come _on_ , open the door!”

The pounding on the door grows more frantic. Mac’s voice is loud and shrill, and even though it’s muffled Dennis hears the panic in it clear as day. 

He knows Mac can see him through the glass, but he still hammers against the door incessantly. His irritation swells when Mac doesn’t stop. It’s late Saturday night, or early Sunday morning technically; Dee is going to wake up from the noise soon and squawk and bitch about it all day tomorrow, and Dennis already has a headache from it. He unlocks and opens the door, and Mac practically falls into the threshold. 

“ _What_ , Mac, Jesus Christ it’s two in the-”

He’s cut off by Mac’s body crashing into his, arms thrown around his neck. He’s shaking, and his breathing is irregular. Dennis stands shocked for a minute, arms hanging limp and awkward. 

“What’s going on, Mac?” he asks a little more softly.

Mac doesn’t answer for awhile, he just clings to Dennis, moonlight shining bright through the door into the entryway. Dennis reaches behind Mac and closes it, then circles his arms around his torso, hugging him a little stiffly. 

“Mac? Talk to me buddy,” Dennis tries, letting one of his hands rub light circles on his back. 

He feels Mac take a deep breath. He slowly releases his grip on Dennis’ neck and eases back, and Dennis gets a good look at his face. He’s pale, and his eyes are bloodshot and terrified. 

“Dad got arrested tonight,” Mac finally says, voice strained, sniffing loudly and looking away. “A cop came to the house to tell us they caught him with coke, and that he was at the station for processing.” He starts to speak faster, stumbling over his words as his breathing gets shallow again. “We can’t afford a lawyer, he’s gonna get some shitty government lawyer who’s not gonna do shit, and he’ll go to prison and Mom doesn’t have a job right now, and she won’t drive me to go see him and she doesn’t even _care -”_

 _“_ Mac, slow down buddy,” Dennis says. He grabs Mac’s shoulders and kneads gently as he talks. “It’s gonna be okay, alright?”

“No, it’s not!” Mac cries, shrugging Dennis off and pacing around the foyer. “You don’t get it dude, we don’t have any money, Mom spends it all on cigarettes and beer, Dad’s money from dealing was the only thing getting us by! I’m gonna have to pick up the slack, and if I get caught I’ll go to juvie and Mom will be left alone, Dennis, and Charlie isn’t answering his goddamn phone so I don’t know if he still has that ounce I gave him, and I need it back because Dad’s suppliers aren’t going to talk to me now that he’s been arrested, and -”

Dennis can’t take it anymore; he steps in front of where Mac is pacing, grabs his shoulders and pulls him into another hug. 

It works; Mac stops rambling, and Dennis can feel his breathing even out a tiny bit. He lets out a choked whimper, and his hands fist in Dennis’ shirt. 

“I don’t know what to do, Den,” Mac whispers in his neck. 

“There’s nothing you _can_ do, Mac,” Dennis says quietly. “You’re sixteen, this isn’t on you.”

“Yes it is, I’m the man of the family now, I have to -”

“Mac, listen to me,” Dennis says. He pulls back and lets his hands rest on either side of Mac’s neck, feels his pulse jump wildly beneath his thumbs. “This isn’t your fault, okay? And that ‘man of the family’ shit is stupid, it’s your mom’s job to take care of you, bro.” 

Mac’s head droops, and Dennis feels a pang of guilt. His mother has never really taken care of him, despite what Mac pretends, and there’s no reason she would start now just because his dad is gone. 

“And - and listen, if she you know, gets too busy or whatever,” he backtracks, using Mac’s typical excuse for her behavior, “then you know, you have me, and Charlie, and… Dee, I guess. We’ll help you out. I could probably swipe some money from my parents, too.”

Mac furrows his eyebrows. “I don’t need charity, bro.” 

“It’s not _charity_ , Mac. My parents would hate nothing more than their money being stolen to fund your drug dealing.” 

Mac finally cracks a tiny smile, and Dennis returns it immediately, tension in his chest loosening. His hands are still on Mac’s neck, and Mac’s are still clutching at his t-shirt tightly. 

“Let’s go watch a movie, take your mind off it,” Dennis suggests. “There’s nothing you can do tonight, okay?” 

Mac nods, swallowing hard as Dennis drops his hands. They go upstairs, and Dennis pops in the first VHS he finds as Mac crawls in his bed, knees drawing up to his chest. The opening credits to _Jurassic Park_ play as Dennis settles in next to him, leaning back against his pillows.  

Mac spends the first twenty minutes clenched in the same position, head on his knees, eyes darting around restlessly. Neither of them are paying much attention, as Dennis keeps glancing at Mac. 

Just as Dr. Grant is losing his shit about finding a triceratops, Dennis finally scoots closer to Mac and lays his hand on his back gently. Mac jerks a little in surprise and looks around at Dennis. 

“Hey, come here,” Dennis says softly. 

Mac stares at him for a long minute. Slowly, he straightens his knees and leans back into Dennis’ outstretched arm. He sinks into Dennis, rests his head on his shoulder. Dennis curls his arm around him, and starts commenting on every scene to distract him. Mac starts to engage, arguing about the inaccuracies that Dennis points out, or whether Laura Dern is hot. Dennis smiles as Mac launches into a particularly heated rant about whether dinosaurs ever existed at all, not minding his religion fueled ignorance for once. 

About an hour and a half in, Mac goes quiet, and Dennis looks down to see he’s fallen asleep. Dennis eases himself back into a horizontal position, careful not to jostle Mac. When they’re lying flat, Mac curls into Dennis, arm reaching across Dennis’ stomach, breathing even and warm against his neck. Dennis’ eyes close, and within ten minutes he drifts off too, light from the TV dimly illuminating the room as they sleep. 

Dennis wakes up first, TV buzzing faintly in his ears. He and Mac are still tangled together, Mac’s face still pressed into his neck. Dennis glances at his alarm clock, and realizes they’ve slept all the way through the morning. 

He closes his eyes again, wanting to sleep for awhile longer, when he feels Mac stir against him. He shifts for a minute as he wakes up, and Dennis can pinpoint the moment he realizes where he is because he goes completely still, isn’t even breathing. 

Dennis pretends to sleep until Mac awkwardly tries to extricate himself from his arms. He opens his eyes to see Mac backing away, panic written all over his face.

Dennis just watches him, waiting. 

“I uh, have to go check on Mom,” Mac says after a moment, voice hoarse from sleep. 

Dennis doesn’t reply. He just lifts a lazy hand in goodbye as Mac all but sprints out of his room, distantly hears Dee shout something as the front door slams. 

-


	6. things you said when we were slow dancing

-

“Dennis? What is this?”

They’re in the kitchen, rifling through their one box of various Christmas decorations, though there’s not much to speak of. Dennis finds a single bag of half broken tree ornaments, a few stray strands of tinsel, and a string of lights that almost certainly don’t work.

He turns, and his heart drops into his stomach when he sees what Mac is holding.

“Where did you get that?” he asks, carefully controlling his facial expression.

“It was in the box,” Mac says, delicately examining the small black cassette in his hands. “It has my name on it, but I don’t think it’s mine. I don’t have any cassettes.”

“Maybe it’s leftover from high school,” Dennis suggests, inching closer and trying to pluck the tape from his hand.

Mac twists out of the way, turning it over like he’ll find the answer on the other side.

“No, I didn’t have a cassette player, remember? And why would it just show up in our Christmas box?”

“I don’t know Mac, weird shit happens. Let me see it.”

He holds out his hand, but Mac is still inspecting it closely and doesn’t acknowledge him.

“Mac. Let me _see_ it.”

“It has _my_ name on it dude,” Mac says stubbornly. “I’m gonna play it.”

He whirls around before Dennis can stop him and pops the current tape out of the cassette player Dennis got from eBay.

“Mac - wait, _Mac_ , let me -“

He reaches for the tape player but Mac elbows him away. Dennis grabs his shoulder and heaves but he doesn’t budge. He pushes uselessly against Mac’s back, accomplishing nothing but pressing him further into the counter. He reaches around him towards the cassette player, but it’s too late; Mac slides it in and hits play.

The first song starts as Dennis continues to wrestle with him, and his heart stops.

The opening notes of “Wind Beneath My Wings” by Bette Midler start to croon soft and tinny through the old speakers.

He’s frozen against Mac’s back, arms still around him and stretched towards the counter, cheeks flaming. His head falls heavily onto Mac’s back between his shoulder blades.

“Dennis?” he hears Mac murmur.

He doesn’t move. Maybe if Mac can’t see him he’ll forget, like a goldfish.

Mac turns around in Dennis’ awkward embrace to face him, Dennis refusing to look him in the eye.

“Did you… make me a mixtape?”

He sounds so pleased with himself that Dennis’ embarrassment quickly morphs into irritation.

“I - it’s _not_ \- it was supposed to be a Christmas gift, but you ruined it,” he huffs. His hands are still resting on the counter on either side of Mac, and he watches his fingers tap away anxiously, studiously avoiding eye contact.

“ _Did you ever know that you’re my hero_ …”

The first chorus chimes bright in the silence, and Dennis can feel the blush spread to his ears.

“You made me a mixtape for Christmas?” Mac asks, voice hushed now, almost reverent.

Dennis finally looks up, and Mac is staring at him like he’s never seen him before.

“Yes,” Dennis admits, hands moving to play nervously with the hem of Mac’s t-shirt. “But you weren’t supposed to _find_ this one, something is wrong with the goddamn tape and the asshole at Venutis couldn’t fix it. He also insinuated that I was ‘out of touch’ for making a cassette mixtape, and rudely suggested that I ‘just use Spotify’. And then I got thrown out before I could even buy a new tape, for simply trying to explain why a cassette is the only truly artful way to make a mixtape. And maybe I got a little hot about it but there was no reason for him to be so - “

Mac shuts him up by pressing his lips to his, kissing him deep and slow like it’s the first time.

“That’s sweet Dennis,” Mac says as he pulls away, running one of his thumbs over Dennis’ cheek. “When did you even have time to make this?”

“I - started it awhile ago,” Dennis answers vaguely.

“Awhile ago?” Mac repeats, lips tilting into a shit eating grin that Dennis wants to kiss right off his face. Or slap. He’s not picky. “As in, three weeks ago?”

“Mac,” Dennis warns.

“As in, the first time I kissed you, three weeks ago?”

“ _Mac_ ,” he says again, trapping him against the counter to remind him who’s in control of the situation.

He doesn’t take the hint, he just continues to grin a little lopsided at him.

“So how were you going to give it to me?” Mac asks, trailing his hands down Dennis’ chest to settle on his hips.

Dennis sighs and hides his face in the crook of his shoulder.

“Christmas Eve,” he mutters.

He doesn’t tell him that he was going to decorate with the Christmas lights and candles, and cook him dinner, and ask him to dance the way people do in movies. The same way his parents did the one Christmas Eve when they all pretended they were a happy family, the only good memory of the holiday he has.

But he doesn’t have to tell him because Mac gets it, so in tune with Dennis that it sometimes takes his breath away. He wiggles around to restart the tape, and as Bette Midler’s voice floats out of the speakers again he plucks Dennis’ hands from his side and rests them on his shoulders, wrapping his arms around Dennis’ waist without a word. He starts to sway gently, no finesse or precision; he just holds Dennis close as they rock back and forth.

As soon as they start moving Dennis is struck by how cheesy it is, and his cheeks heat up again. He almost pulls away, but then Mac tugs him closer. He buries his face in his neck instead, finding it easier to breathe when Mac isn’t looking at him like that.

It’s the first time they’ve touched this way since they started up whatever is currently happening between them; he hasn’t tried to label it. The first time they’ve just held each other without the expectation of sex, the first time they’ve touched without the desperate pull of desire burning through them.

Dennis breathes Mac in, loses himself in the comfort of his touch and familiarity of his cologne.

Mac presses his lips against Dennis’ temple when the song ends.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

Dennis doesn’t reply; he just closes his eyes as the next song starts and let’s Mac lead him slowly around their kitchen.

-


	7. things you said with too many miles between us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said with too many miles between us + things you said when you were crying

-

“Please come home.”

His voice hitches pathetically, and he fists a hand in his hair as he fights the tears spilling on his cheeks.

He’s met with silence, hears nothing but Dennis’ quiet breathing, even and calm unlike his.

“Dennis?”

He tries to picture him. He wonders if he’s in a house, or if he lives in apartment. He wonders if he has a new roommate, or if he’s living with Mandy, or if he’s alone. He wonders if he’s grown a beard, or cut his hair, if he still looks like the Dennis he remembers. He should know these things, but he doesn’t, because this is the first call Dennis has actually taken from him in nine months. He almost thought he was dreaming when he heard his voice.

“Are you still there?” he asks when several minutes pass in silence.

“I’m here,” Dennis says.

Mac concentrates hard on his voice, trying to gauge his mood from it, but it’s difficult. He realizes how much he relied on Dennis’ body language in the past to read him, finds it nearly impossible to garner anything from his voice alone.

Mac sniffs loudly, wiping at his eyes and nose with the back of his hand.

“Mac, don’t, come on,” Dennis says, and he sounds almost irritated, but there’s something else in his tone Mac can’t decipher.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t _cry_ , Jesus.”

“Why not?”

Dennis scoffs quietly, floundering a little as he answers.

“Because it’s - it’s pathetic. I haven’t even been gone that long.”

“It’s been ten months Dennis, that’s a long time.”

“Still, crying about it…”

“I can’t help it! I’m _sad_ , dude. Christ Dennis, do you even miss me— _us,_ at all?”

He doesn’t know what he expects from that question. He knows Dennis has feelings, even if he’s trying to pretend otherwise right now, and that he probably misses them at least a little bit. He just doesn’t know if “them” includes him.

Tears prick in his eyes again the longer he waits for Dennis to answer. Hearing Dennis’ voice after months of silence snapped something inside him, slashing open the partially healed wounds from missing him.

He finally answers, his voice cracking so minutely that Mac would have missed it if he wasn’t analyzing every breath.

“Stop calling me.”

The line goes dead. Mac presses the phone to his ear desperately, as if he can bring him back by listening to the dead space he just occupied.

Eventually the phone slides out of his limp hand, and he presses the palms of his hands to his eyes hard as he sobs.

-


	8. things you said too quietly

-

“No wait, come on guys, don’t -“

“Nope, too late! Get in!”

Charlie’s voice trills high and excited behind him as his hands shove Mac into the closet. Dennis crashes into him a second later, Dee cackling gleefully as she forces Dennis to stay put before slamming the door in his face.

“Goddammit, you _bitch_!” Dennis yells at the wood, his fist colliding hard with it. His hand jiggles the doorknob, but it’s locked, of course.

He hates his friends.

He hates his friends, with the exception of Dennis, who is just as unfairly trapped, literally and figuratively, as he is.

Mostly, he hates Dee, because it’s her fault he’s in here. She’s the one who suggested playing Seven Minutes in Heaven, because she absurdly hoped she’d end up in here with Adriano. Goddamn gangly _bitch_.

The closet is tiny; Dennis is flush against him as he tries fruitlessly to open the door. Eventually he sighs, and presses his forehead to it. The action presses his ass further into Mac’s front, and he swallows.

“I think we’re stuck, fucking _dicks_.”

“Yeah,” is all Mac manages in reply, focusing on thinking about anything but the way Dennis is moving against him.

Dennis wiggles around, and Mac isn’t sure if it’s better or worse that they’re face to face. He can barely see him, but he can feel his breath puff warm against his cheeks.

“Okay so, do we like - is there a rule about using tongue?”

His heart is lodged somewhere in his throat as he asks, and though he can’t make out his expression clearly he can tell Dennis is squinting at him oddly.

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, like, do we have to -“

“Jesus, Mac, _no_ , we’re not making out.”

“But…it’s the rules,” he argues weakly.

“So? Are _you_ gonna rat on us, Ronnie?”

He laughs a little to himself at the nickname, and Mac blushes.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Whatever dude. We don’t have to make out in here, okay?”

And maybe it’s because he can’t see him clearly, and because the tiny amount of light creeping in under the door is softening Dennis’ features, and he can pretend this it isn’t really happening if it’s in the dark. Or maybe he just goes temporarily insane as the next words tumble out of his mouth.

“But I want to,” he mumbles, so quietly he isn’t sure if he actually said it at all.

“What?”

Dennis’ voice is hushed, and Mac is grateful for the dark because his cheeks are on fire. He coughs awkwardly.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did, you said -“

He trails off, watching Mac. He doesn’t know what he can possibly make of his face in this light, but his eyes don’t leave his for a long few moments.

Then, before Mac can backtrack, Dennis mouth is on his, body pressing him into the coats behind him.

His heart rate doubles as Dennis’ hands move up his chest, winding around his neck as his tongue runs over Mac’s bottom lip. His hands are fisted in Dennis’ shirt against his hips, pulling him closer with them as he opens his mouth. His tongue slides in along Dennis’ and he groans, the sound going straight to his dick.

Dennis kisses him harder, Mac kissing back like he’s dying, drowning in it, letting Dennis manhandle him and press him so far into the coats that his back eventually hits the wall. They’re encompassed by fabric, breaths heavy and hot in the enclosed space as they break apart briefly.

“Den, we should -“

“Shut up,” Dennis growls, slotting his lips against his again, biting gently.

Mac whines as Dennis grinds against him, his hands threading into his hair. He tilts Mac’s head to the right and his lips attach to his throat, sucking hard at his pulse point.

“Dennis, wait, don’t - _nngh_ -“

He can almost feel Dennis smile against his neck as he nips at him, and Mac forgets what he was going to say in an instant.

He’s just about to pull Dennis back up when there’s a deafening bang on the door.

“One minute boners!” Dee cries.

They’re frozen against the wall, Dennis’ mouth still pressed against his neck. Slowly he backs off, and Mac hovers between pushing him away and pulling him back in the make the most of their last minute.

“Um,” he says dumbly in the silence.

“Yeah,” is all Dennis says. His hands are resting on Mac’s shoulders, and his skin is tingling where his fingers are brushing his neck.

He wants to kiss him again, the impulse something he refuses to take a closer look at, tabling it for another day. But the seconds tick away, and he can’t bring himself to close the distance again.

“Well, clearly I need to give you some kissing lessons,” Dennis eventually says, something strained in his voice.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah man, that was awful. You need some practice.”

“I don’t need _practice_ , fuck you -“

Dennis’ face is suddenly so close, and his mouth snaps shut.

“Yes, you do,” he murmurs before finally pressing one last kiss to his lips.

-


	9. things you said with no space between us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said under the stars and in the grass + things you said with no space between us
> 
> (new years fic)

-

“Her, right there.” 

Mac follows Dennis’ finger to a young redheaded woman who’s chatting and drinking champagne amiably with her friends. They’re all wearing the New Years top hats that Charlie had insisted on handing out. Mac adjusts the one on his own head as he looks her over. 

“Cool,” he says dully. Dennis is still leering at her from his place next to him behind the bar. 

“Isn’t she hot?” Dennis continues, ignoring Mac’s clear boredom with the subject. 

“I guess dude. I don’t get why you’re obsessing over this, just get drunk with us and relax.” 

Dennis scoffs. “Of course you don’t get it. I can’t let Dee win, okay?”

“ _Win_? Dude she brought her girlfriend to our shitty New Years party, how is that even a competition?”

“First of all, everything is a competition with Dee, where have you been for the last twenty years? And second, are you kidding? It’s so obvious, why else wouldn’t we have met her until tonight?” Dennis asks, gesturing to where Dee is dancing with her girlfriend. Anna, or Hannah maybe, Mac isn’t sure. He wasn’t really listening when she introduced her. “She only brought her so that _she_ could have someone to kiss at midnight and make me look like a fool.”

“I really don’t think that’s what’s happening dude. _None_ of us has anyone to kiss and she clearly doesn’t give a shit what were doing, look.” 

He points to Dee again, who’s now fully making out with her girlfriend, oblivious to anyone else in the bar. 

Dennis huffs out a breath. “Stop acting like you know what you’re talking about Mac. Charlie is probably gonna kiss you anyway, like he always does.”

Mac makes a face. “He hasn’t done that in years, and I’m not going near him after he told me he drank piss. He’s busy with the fireworks anyway.” 

Charlie and Frank had been in the basement for a suspicious about of time, supposedly coming up with a plan for the firework show, though Mac would bet a hundred dollars they were just taking them apart and trying to figure out if they can use any of the chemicals in them as inhalants. 

“Whatever,” Dennis says dismissively, taking a swig of beer and waving Mac off. “She’s been parading this girl in front of me all night, rubbing it in my face that she has someone and I don’t.”

“You just met her _yesterday_ ,” Mac says exasperatedly. “Just forget it and drink with me.”

“No. The game is on,” Dennis says dramatically. 

He puts down his beer and picks up two champagne flutes, and fills them to the brim. Mac sighs as he waltzes over to the redhead with the glasses, and opens another beer for himself just as Dennis tries to offer her the drink. He laughs to himself as she points to the half full drink in her hand, watching Dennis flounder and try to convince her to take the champagne anyway. 

He loses interest when it’s clear she’s going to reject Dennis, and focuses on his own drink. Dennis is going to be unbearable in about five minutes when he realizes he’s failed, and Mac needs to be at least seventy percent drunker to deal with that tonight. 

“Can I get some champagne?”

Mac looks around and sees a guy he vaguely recognizes waving at him, waiting for a drink. 

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he answers. He pours some champagne and hands it to the guy. 

“Thanks.” He takes a sip, watching Mac closely. Mac’s stomach dips when his eyes flick down his body and back to his face. “What’s your name?” 

“My name?” Mac repeats. 

“Yeah, I think I recognize you from the gym. You work out at Powerhouse?” 

“Yeah, I do,” Mac says, brightening. He looks him over; he’s not super built, but his biceps could rival his own, and his face is pretty. He can’t believe he didn’t notice him before. “I’m Mac.” 

“Mac. I’m Jeff.” 

He holds hand out across the bar. Just as Mac’s hand closes around his, he hears Dennis shriek some sort of expletive and watches him storm back behind the bar, face beet red. 

“Uh, enjoy the drink,” Mac says, dropping Jeff’s hand and steeling himself for Dennis’ vitriol. 

“ _Idiot_ ,” Dennis is seething, hands shaking as he pours himself a shot. “She ‘doesn’t want to cheat on her boyfriend’ - load of _shit_ -“

“Dennis -“ 

“She doesn’t have a boyfriend, goddamn liar!” Dennis cries, turning on Mac so fast he spills his drink. Mac grabs his wrists before he can lash out anymore. 

“Woah, calm down,” Mac says as soothingly as he can. “We’ve got a bar full of people, just find someone else to hit on.” 

“But she _embarrassed_ me,” Dennis says venomously, not elaborating how. Mac rubs his wrists and feels Dennis’ pulse racing beneath his fingers. “I can’t go back out there, let’s just - let’s get wasted in the back,” he says, pulling his hands from Mac’s grip to grab a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. 

“Dude we can’t, the bar is full and we’re the only ones working.” 

“Who gives a shit, we’ll just close.”

“But we’ve already made three hundred bucks in tips alone, bro, we can’t close.”

“I don’t _care_ Mac. Come on, please?”

The “please” stops him in his tracks, making it hard for him to resist. He’s never been good at suppressing his instinct to give Dennis whatever he wants, especially when he starts dropping niceties and using his Hugh Honey sweetness.  

He’s about to give in when Jeff sidles back into view, wiggling his champagne flute at Mac. 

“Need a refill,” he says, smiling charmingly at him. 

He glances at Dennis and sees that he’s glaring icily at Jeff, his entire body rigid. 

“Sure man,” Mac says, ducking down to grab a fresh bottle. He struggles to open the foil, nervously watching Dennis and praying he doesn’t explode again. 

He finally rips off the foil, but Dennis’ hands shoot out suddenly and take the bottle from him. 

“I’ll pop it,” he says, barely taking his eyes off Jeff. Mac looks over at him and is surprised to see Jeff is already looking right back, doesn’t seem unnerved at all by Dennis’ weird hostility. 

Before he can make sense of any of it, he hears the cork popping loudly, and then a fountain of fizz is pouring right in Jeff’s face, soaking his shirt. 

“Dennis!” Mac yelps, rushing to gather as many towels as he can and thrusting them at Jeff. 

“Sorry, man, didn’t realize it was gonna do that,” Dennis says, mouth curling into a ghost of a smirk. Mac can hear how fake his remorse is, but Jeff must think it’s genuine because he just waves him off as he wipes the champagne dripping from his hair. 

“It’s cool, wouldn’t be New Years without a good fizzing right?” He winks at Mac, and his heart jumps as he notices how much hotter he looks dripping wet. 

He can feels Dennis’ eyes boring into him as he smiles at Jeff. He refills his drink with what’s left in the bottle, and Jeff smiles back at him as he saunters back over to his stool. 

They pass an hour that way: Jeff slides down the bar to get refills every twenty minutes or so, and Mac lets him flirt with him shamelessly, basking in the attention. Dennis eventually retreats to the office after the second refill, though he somehow ends up appearing right next to Mac the second Jeff does, and gets increasingly irritated with the cycle. 

“He does realize we’re doing bottomless champagne right? He doesn’t have to come down here every time,” Dennis complains after the fifth time. 

Mac is spared answering as Charlie emerges from the basement, covered in what could possibly be gunpowder.  

“Charlie! Hey, come man the bar for a bit,” Dennis says immediately, tugging Mac with him a few steps towards the office. 

“Can’t, gotta set up, its eleven forty-five,” Charlie answers, dumping an armful of fireworks on the floor, completely ignoring the crowd of people surrounding him. 

Frank comes up with his own armful, barking orders at Charlie to get everything to the alley. They argue loudly, and Mac is about to join in and tell them to get their shit outside when Jeff shows up again. Dennis mutters “Jesus Christ” under his breath. 

“Refill?” Mac asks, reaching for the bottle. 

“Actually, just wondering… where are you gonna be at midnight?”

Dennis chokes out a weird strangled noise next to him. 

“Uh, probably right here I guess? Or outside with the fireworks, actually.” 

Jeff’s eyes flick over to Dennis for a brief moment then back to his. 

“You going to be, um - _with_ anyone?” Jeff asks. 

“No,” Mac answers slowly. “I mean, I’ll be with my friends, probably.”

“Okay, well… come find me, if you want,” Jeff says. He disappears into the crowd and Mac blinks after him. 

“Goddammit Mac,” Dennis mutters once he’s gone. 

“What?”

“‘ _What_ ’? He wants to kiss you at midnight.”

“Ohhh,” Mac says in awe. He scans the cluster of people for him, but so many people have crammed in in the last hour that he can’t find him. 

“Yeah, but you’re not going to.”

Mac’s head snaps back to Dennis. 

“What? Why not?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Because, if you and Dee both kiss someone and leave only me out, then she _wins_.”

“Bro, I don’t give a shit about you and Dee’s weird game. Go find some chick if it’s so important to you.” 

Dennis sputters angrily as Mac walks away. He ignores him and pushes through the mass of people. He wonders vaguely if any of them have actually paid for the bottomless champagne special, or if they’ve all just filtered in through the street and have helped themselves. He decides that he doesn’t really care as he searches for Jeff. 

He finally catches sight of him near the juke box. He’s almost reached him when he feels a hand on his arm. It yanks him around and he sees Dennis in front of him, eyes wild.

“Dennis, _what_ -”

“Kiss me,” Dennis says, barely loud enough for Mac to hear it over the music.

He’s sure he’s dreaming, protest dying in his throat once his brain processes what he just heard.

“What?” he repeats weakly, heart rate picking up when Dennis doesn’t remove his hand from his forearm. He feels dizzy, and breathless, like he’s had the wind knocked out of him. It’s hard to tell in the dim lighting, but he could swear Dennis’ cheeks are pinker than usual.

“At midnight,” Dennis elaborates. His heart drops. 

“Dennis, Dee isn’t even _here_ anymore, she left like ten minutes ago. You don’t need to use me to get back at her or whatever, _Christ_.”

“Mac, I -“

Mac doesn’t hear the end of his sentence, because there’s a deafening popping sound echoing like gunshots, and the sound of people screaming. He spins around just in time to see bright white lights fizzling in the air and on the floor. 

“UH, WOULD EVERYBODY PLEASE REMAIN CALM AND EXIT THE BUILDING!” Charlie screams from somewhere in the center of the room. It clears enough with people clamoring to leave that Mac catches sight of a pile of burned firework debris, and Charlie holding his hand close to his chest. 

“Charlie, what the _fuck_ -“ 

People push past him and Dennis frantically as they pour out of the bar through the front and back doors. 

“Just please vacate the premises Mac, the fireworks will commence shortly as scheduled!” Charlie exclaims, voice shrill as he tries to clean up the mess and reign in his own panic. 

“What did you do?” Dennis asks. Someone pushes him into Mac’s shoulder; he can’t help but notice that Dennis doesn’t pull away, but leans into the contact. 

“I thought these little floor crawler fireworks were for like, indoor use!” 

“‘Floor crawler’? What the hell is a floor crawler?” Mac asks incredulously. The bar has emptied completely, smell of burnt wood permeating the entire room. 

“You know, those ones that don’t go up, they just sparkle on the floor -“ 

“Jesus Christ, where is Frank?” Dennis interrupts. 

“He’s setting up across the street.”

“Across - you mean you we’re gonna do our big show in the barren lot across the street?”

“You got a better idea?” Charlie argues. “Come on, he needs me to help light them, he can’t see shit at night.”

He takes off through the front door before they can argue with him any further. 

“Oh my god, dude,” Mac starts. “They’re gonna burn Paddy’s to the ground.” 

Dennis just sighs in response. They stand silently together for a minute, Mac trying hard not to think of their conversation before the firework exploded. Dennis checks his watch, and taps Mac’s shoulder. 

“It’s eleven fifty-six, let’s go.”

They grab their coats and walk outside together, then struggle through the broken section of chain link fence. He’s pretty sure someone owns this property and that the’re trespassing, but that’s never stopped them before. They stop a few yards into the lot and see Charlie and Frank off in the distance, yelling at each other and gesturing violently at the array of fireworks lined up. Dee is still nowhere to be found; she probably took her girlfriend home, something Mac doesn’t want to think about at all. 

“Eleven fifty-eight,” Dennis says quietly, hint of trepidation in his voice. 

Mac nods and watches Charlie weave around chaotically. Frank lights a punk and hands it to Charlie, and they run to opposite ends of the line they’ve created. 

They’re lighting the first ones just before midnight, and Mac watches them shoot off moments before the hand on Dennis’ watch hits twelve, exploding loud and brilliant above their heads. 

“Mac,” Dennis says. 

He turns, and then Dennis is right there, mouth pressing warm and soft against his. 

He sighs into it, kissing back as Dennis’ mouth moves firm and insistent. Dennis’ hands move to cup his face, and he pulls him in close, resting his on the small of his back. He lets Dennis deepen the kiss, feels him groan as his tongue slides along his. 

A particularly ear splitting firework startles them apart, but their hands stay put. They look up to see several exploding at once, Charlie and Frank whooping loudly in the distance. Mac looks back at Dennis, the lights glittering beautifully in his eyes. Dennis returns his gaze, expression uncharacteristically soft, fingers brushing his cheeks gently.

“Um… Dee isn’t here, dude,” Mac hears himself say as if through a tunnel. 

“Jesus Christ Mac,” Dennis murmurs, leaning in and kissing him again. 

They kiss throughout the entire firework spectacle, pressed together as close as possible. Dennis breaks the kiss just as the last fireworks erupt over them, smiling at Mac in the crooked way that makes his heart race. 

“Happy New Year,” Dennis breathes, hands tangling in his hair and knocking the plastic hat to the ground as he pulls him back in. 

-


	10. things you said that I wish you hadn't

-

“Dude, you were so awesome back there,” Dennis gushes again as they open the door to their apartment. His smile is huge, lighting up his entire face the way it did back at the house, and Mac grins back.

“You too bro. You smoothed it over so sweet dude, they didn’t have a choice but to say yes,” Mac says.

He shrugs off the mustard jacket, sweating a little after the stunt at the house. Dennis’ hands are on him again immediately, smoothing out the creases in his button down.

“Honey and Vinegar, huh?” Dennis wonders quietly, still smiling in a way that’s making Mac feel a little dizzy. Or maybe it’s because ninety degrees outside and he just sweat up a couple yuppies in a thick blazer and tie.

“We don’t have to wear this for the next part, right?” Mac asks, loosening his tie. Dennis’ hands jump to his neck, helping him undo the top button. Mac swallows hard against his knuckles.

“What, you don’t like the suits?”

His hands are still there, undoing another button.

“N-no, they’re sweet, it’s just hot as shit,” he answers. Dennis drops his hands, and Mac finally takes a proper breath. “You aren’t sweating under that?”

Dennis shrugs. “No. Think you just run a little hotter than me, Vic.”

He winks, and heads over to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. Mac stares after him, eyebrows pinched together. Dennis hasn’t been in this good of a mood in weeks. It puts Mac a little on edge, trying to wrap his head around it and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Come on, let’s go find something to wear,” Dennis says on his way out of the kitchen, waving for Mac to follow him into his room.

Mac follows without question and immediately kicks back on Dennis’ bed. Dennis opens his closet and starts perusing the options, pulling a few things out as he speaks.

“Speaking of, we should talk about the next part,” he says, considering a light blue sweater. He puts it back, pulling out something pink instead. “We need to be convincing.”

“We _are_ convincing dude, we sold a house today.”

“I mean as a couple,” Dennis clarifies, shooting a withering look over his shoulder. He tosses a few shirts on the bed near Mac’s feet and returns to the closet. “We’ll need to have a backstory, like how we met, first date, first kiss, shit like that.”

Mac frowns. “That sounds like... a lot of work bro. I doubt anyone will ask about that.”

“What if they do?” Dennis says insistently, turning around with several other shirts in his hands. “We need to practice. This is a good thing we have going Mac, I don’t want to screw it up because we weren’t thorough.”

“All right fine,” Mac agrees. “Jesus dude, how many shirts do you have?”

“Stay on topic,” he deflects. He stops searching and adds the shirts to the pile on the bed. “I think we can skip coming up with a backstory, we don’t need it to be too complex. A slightly altered version of the truth should be good enough.”

“What, like we were high school sweethearts?” Mac suggests flippantly.

“Exactly,” Dennis answers, pointing at Mac and picking up steam. “We’ll say our first date was when we were sixteen. You took me to dinner, and then we went bowling. We’ll throw in a little anecdote about you breaking a finger to make it more believable.”

The immediate and overly confident way he recites all this sits funny with Mac, but he can’t put a finger on why.

“I would never break a finger doing some pussy sport like bowling Dennis. And plus you hate bowling,” Mac points out.

“Yes, but _Hugh_ loves bowling,” Dennis says, grinning bright again. “Now get up, there’s something else we need to cover.” 

Mac sighs and heaves himself off of Dennis’ bed, grumbling only a little. As soon as he’s upright Dennis is there, and he brushes a hand over Mac’s neck. His other hand touches his waist lightly, like Mac is an animal he doesn’t want to scare away. 

“Wh-what are you doing?” 

He’s whispering for some reason. He shivers as Dennis’ thumb brushes over his jaw. 

“We have to practice touching,” Dennis explains patiently. 

Mac swallows. “We touch all the time,” he says shakily, still whispering. 

“Not like this.” 

He presses his hand more firmly against his waist now that Mac hasn’t moved away, curling his fingers into his shirt. His gaze flicks to Mac’s mouth, and his heart stops. 

“We need to do this right,” Dennis purrs, voice dripping sweet like honey. “Come on Vic.”  

The tenuous grasp he had on his self control suddenly snaps and he nods, unable to close the distance himself. 

Dennis kisses him slowly, just a hint of pressure against Mac’s lips. His thumb is still moving over his jaw, Mac’s skin igniting everywhere he’s touching him, melting under his hands. He gets bolder when Mac responds and opens his mouth, slotting their lips together more firmly. Mac shivers again when Dennis’ tongue runs over his upper lip experimentally. 

“Touch me Vic,” Dennis breathes. 

Mac’s stomach swoops, heat flooding his veins like wildfire.

“What?” he replies. 

“Do something with your arms, I feel like I'm kissing a goddamn statue,” he clarifies. 

Mac releases his breathe, equal parts relieved and disappointed. Or like... sixty-forty.

“ _Vic_ ,” Dennis whines. “Jesus, see this is why I insisted on practicing, you’re awful at this -”

Mac's mouth crashes against his, teeth clacking a little as he wraps his arms around Dennis’ back, pulling him in close and licking into his mouth. Dennis groans, hand on his neck trailing back to run through his hair as Mac’s tongue slides along his. The wool of Dennis’ blazer scratches Mac’s hands, but he still lets them roam down to the small of Dennis’ back, hesitating at the waistband of his pants. 

“Yeah,” Dennis encourages against his mouth. “Do it Vic.”

His stomach dips, heat flooding through him again when he calls him that. Because he’s Vic, not Mac. Vic is someone who can touch Dennis like this, can touch _Hugh_ , and it doesn’t have to mean anything. It doesn’t have to be real, doesn’t have to be something he needs to obsess over. He can give into to the Dennis charged impulses he’s had for as long as he can remember with no consequences, the ones he’s never let himself examine closely, snuffing them out as quick as they appear. He can pretend to be a person he sometimes wishes he was. 

His hands drag down to Dennis’ ass. Dennis exhales sharply and kisses him again. He pushes until the back of Mac’s knees hit the edge of the bed, and then they’re toppling onto it. Dennis climbs into his lap immediately and attaches their mouths again. Dennis bites his bottom lip and Mac moans, feels Dennis smile against his mouth before doing it again. His hands find Dennis’ ass again as Dennis yanks a little on his tie, trying to loosen it. They break apart to pull the tie over Mac’s head and shove off Dennis’ blazer. 

He loses it a little as Dennis kisses down his jaw, trailing kisses and licks to his ear. He squirms under Dennis, biting back the desperate sounds bubbling in his throat. Dennis nips his earlobe, then presses light kisses just under his ear. His hips grind against Mac’s and he moans again, heat pooling fast in his stomach when he feels Dennis is hard. Dennis starts to suck at a spot on his neck and Mac flips them over before he really embarrasses himself, breathing hard inches from Dennis’ face. 

Dennis smiles at him, saccharine and lazy, making Mac’s heart flutter. 

“You feel so good, baby boy,” Dennis murmurs, rolling his hips again and cupping his face in his hands the same way he did at the house. Mac chokes and buries his face in Dennis’ neck, presses his lips to his throat and feels Dennis hum under his mouth. 

His hand works on Dennis’ tie as he sucks and bites at his neck, memorizing the breathy helpless sounds he makes. Dennis’ hands are in his hair again, holding him in place, and his hips are restless. 

“So good, Mac,” Dennis moans. 

And just like that the spell is broken. Ice replaces the fire in his veins, startling him back to reality. He freezes, letting himself breathe in the crook of Dennis’ neck for a few more moments. When he resurfaces, Dennis is looking steadily back at him, expression long-suffering and almost fond, if he squints. 

“I uh - that’s probably enough practice, right?” Mac says hoarsely. 

Dennis raises his eyebrows but thankfully doesn’t argue or laugh at him. “Sure man, if you think so.” 

They stare at each other for a few moments, Mac fighting the urge to touch him again. His eyes roam over Dennis’ flushed face and settle on his mouth, red and kiss bitten. 

“Mac? You need to get up.”

“Right, sorry,” he answers quickly, pushing himself off the bed. He blushes as he tries to stand in a way that will hide his boner, as if Dennis didn’t just feel it against his own not two minutes ago. 

“Alright, let’s pick our outfits, we’re meeting Frank in an hour,” Dennis says as he sits upright, voice calm and even like the last ten minutes never happened. 

Mac gratefully follows his lead. They bicker over the outfits, and try on four or five each before making a decision. They do the gay couple thing, and Dennis touches him constantly, hands burning on his already too warm skin. They swim and laugh and play chicken and touch some more, and the cool water does nothing to ease the fever prickling under his skin. 

They go home, and they’re Mac and Dennis again, and Dennis still touches him all the time and calls him baby, easy and casual like he’s done it his entire life.

-

Two weeks later, Dennis corners him in the office and calls him Vic, and Mac finally lets himself give in. He barely notices that he’s sighing Dennis’ name as he kisses him. 

-


	11. things you didn't say at all

-

“Mac come on, don’t be a baby.”

“I’m not being a baby, you’re being an asshole.”

Mac huffs and shoves himself out of the bed. He gets tangled in the sheets and all but falls onto the floor, Dennis snorting behind him. He straightens and crosses his arms, trying to look as intimidating as he can as he argues his point.

“I’ve been sleeping in this bed and this room for over a year dude, why do _I_ have to spend money on a new bed?”

“Because it’s _my_ room, Mac. It’s always been my room.”

“You left bro, which means you forfeited the room. I’m not moving all my shit again.”

Dennis visibly stiffens from his spot on the bed. It’s the first time he’s mentioned his sudden return from North Dakota in the week and a half that he’s been back.

“Mac, I have been extremely gracious letting you sleep in my bed out of respect for you paying the rent for a year. But it’s my goddamn room, and I’m tired of you sleeping on top of me every night.”

Mac ignores the way his stomach dips as he remembers waking up tangled in Dennis’ arms for the last ten days. He’s even pretty sure Dennis has woken up before him several times and didn’t kick him away, which confuses the shit out of him. He hasn’t dared to bring it up, too worried it would make him stop. 

“ _My_ bed, and I can’t help it, I migrate in my sleep. And I’m not buying a new bed, I’m still paying this one off! I spent a shit load of money redoing the apartment dude, I can’t afford another one.”

It’s only a half lie. He only has one more payment on the bed, and he actually managed to save a decent amount of money this year even after the apartment renovation, but he’s not about to tell Dennis that.

“Mac I’m done with this discussion, we’re going to Bed Bath and Beyond today and then we’re moving you back to your room.”

He swings his legs out and barrels out of bed towards the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Mac hears the shower squeak as the water turns on. He climbs back into the bed, settling right into the center of it, and waits.

Dennis emerges ten minutes later in nothing but his boxers, rubbing a towel through his wet hair. Mac’s breath hitches a little at the sight, but he makes himself keep a straight face when Dennis notices he’s still in bed.

“Why aren’t you getting dressed?”

“Because I’m not going.”

“You’re not going,” Dennis repeats, pausing as he dries his hair. He removes the towel, and Mac suppresses the urge to laugh at the way his hair is sticking out in fifty different directions.

“Nope,” Mac says, drawing out the “p” with a popping sound.

Dennis glares; the menacing effect he’s going for falls flat as he stands half naked with a mop of wet hair.

“Get _up_ Mac, I want to get there before it gets crowded.”

“I’m not _going_ ,” Mac repeats emphatically. He nestles further into the pillows, reclining and crossing his arms. “If you want to go buy yourself a new bed, knock yourself out. I’m staying in mine.”

He jumps as the damp towel smacks him in the face. Dennis is suddenly a lot closer to the bed, looking murderous.

“Mac. Get. Up.” He snarls.

“No.”

“ _Mac_ -“

“I’m not going, and you can’t make me.”

Dennis snatches the covers and pulls them away from Mac. He manages to grab them back before they slip away completely, and he and Dennis get caught in a tug of war with them.

Mac yanks hard, and Dennis falls forward onto the bed. He scrambles forward before Mac can blink and pulls on Mac’s arms uselessly.

“This isn’t gonna work dude, I’m way stronger than you,” Mac says lightly as Dennis pants, trying to get some traction on the bed with his feet.

Dennis stops suddenly, and Mac sees what’s coming moments before Dennis’ hand swipes out to scratch him. He catches his hand, and then the other when he does the same with his left, and they wrestle for a few minutes, Dennis struggling to get the upper hand as Mac focuses all his strength in keeping Dennis’ hands from his face. 

Mac manages to get a knee between Dennis’ legs despite the sheets interfering, and then he’s pinning Dennis against the mattress. He takes in Dennis beneath him, panting with his Mac’s hands trapping his wrists, and he can’t help the way blood rushes straight to his dick. 

Dennis struggles and almost wriggles his hands free while Mac is distractedly staring at him. Mac’s grip tightens, and he feels Dennis’ sharp intake of breath more than he hears it from where he’s pressed against his chest. 

They stare at each other, breathing harshly. Dennis is scowling at him. Inexplicably, Mac starts laughing. 

“This isn’t funny, get _off_ ,” Dennis says petulantly, trying to knee Mac in the dick as he squirms under him. 

“You should see your hair dude,” Mac manages, cracking up again when Dennis’ face screws up in fury. 

“It’s gonna dry like this if you don’t let me go,” he fumes. 

Mac laughs harder, falling heavily onto Dennis and releasing his wrists. Dennis doesn’t laugh with him, but he doesn’t shove him off either. They stay like that for a few long moments until Mac calms down. His cheek is sort of pressed against Dennis’ from where he’s laying, and he thinks he can feel Dennis’ own cheek curling up in a smile. 

He lifts his head to confirm his suspicion, but Dennis’ face is neutral. 

“I missed you dude,” he says before he can think better of it.  

Dennis doesn’t answer. Something flashes over his face though, and his eyes flicker to Mac’s mouth for just a second. Mac’s heart skips, and he almost closes the distance between them. He feels Dennis’ hands touch his waist tentatively, fluttering just over his ribs. He’s acutely aware of the amount of Dennis’ bare skin that’s available to him, can’t help his eyes from skimming over his chest hungrily. 

“Mac -” 

The sound of Mac’s phone vibrating on the nightstand interrupts him and jars them both back to reality. Dennis takes advantage of Mac’s surprise to shove him off, climbing awkwardly out of the bed as soon as he’s free. Mac sighs and picks up his phone as Dennis makes a beeline for the bathroom. 

“What?” he snaps into the phone.  

“Jesus, good morning to you too.”  
  
“This is a bad time Dee, what do you want?” 

“I stole Frank’s credit card, Charlie and I are going to brunch. You in?”

Mac glances up and sees Dennis standing in the doorway of the bathroom. He’s combing out his hair as he watches Mac. 

“We can’t, we’re going shopping,” he says after a moment. Dennis shakes his head and snags the phone out of Mac’s hand. 

“Dee? Hi, where are you going?” He bites at one of his nails as he listens to Dee, ignoring Mac’s questioning looks. “We’ll be there.” 

He hangs up and tosses Mac’s phone back to him, moving to rifle through one of the suitcases he still hasn’t unpacked without a word. He puts on a pair of jeans and turns back to Mac. 

“Okay you really have to get up now, Dee reserved a table for us in twenty minutes.” 

“But - what about the bed?” 

Dennis shrugs. “We’ll figure it out another day, just get up.” 

Mac follows him into the bathroom, staring as Dennis puts on moisturizer and starts his makeup routine. 

“So what, you’re just… fine with it all of the sudden?” Mac presses. “You want to keep sharing the bed?”

“I didn’t say that,” Dennis answers carefully, not meeting Mac’s eyes in the mirror. “And if you don’t get dressed in the next five minutes you’re sleeping on the goddamn floor.” 

There’s a hint of pink painting Dennis’ cheeks. Mac watches him for a few more moments before smiling to himself and heading back to the bedroom to get dressed. 

A week passes before Mac finds the courage to bring it up again. Dennis evades the subject, says something vague about them looking for a cheap mattress on Craigslist later. Another week passes, and Dennis’ suitcases slowly start to empty, his clothes mixing with Mac’s in the closet and dresser. They hover around the topic until one morning Mac wakes with Dennis pressed against his back, arms wrapped around his middle. He rolls over, and Dennis is wide awake and staring at him. He keeps his arm on Mac’s waist. Mac swallows hard as Dennis shifts closer. 

“So do you uh - wanna just keep sharing the bed?” Mac asks quietly, voice barely above a whisper. 

Dennis rolls his eyes, and before Mac can take a breath Dennis leans forward and kisses him. He barely has enough time to register how soft Dennis’ lips are before he’s pulling away, smiling softly at Mac. 

“Too much work,” Dennis responds. 

He gets up before Mac can insist he answer the question for real and manages to evade it all day. But that night he kisses Mac again, and presses him into their mattress as he slowly takes him apart. They never revisit the topic again. 

- 


	12. why haven't you kissed me yet?

-

“I think I have an idea for what we can do Saturday.” 

Dennis’ voice breaks him out of his stupor. They’re at the bar late on a Tuesday, and it’s slow as shit. He’s been bored out of his mind all goddamn day, and convinced Dennis about an hour ago to do shots with him. Dee is huddled in a booth scrolling through her phone, and Frank and Charlie are playing pool. Sort of. They’re experimenting with the pool cues, testing whether using the other end is a more effective method. Mac’s been watching them for the better part of ten minutes. 

“Saturday?” Mac asks, eyes still focused on the antics at the pool table. Charlie lines up a shot, and lets out a yell when he overshoots it and the entire cue goes flying.   
  
“Yeah.  _Saturday_ ,” Dennis says, putting a weird emphasis on the word. 

Frank is gesticulating wildly as he and Charlie argue over the best way to hold the stick.

“Mac? Are you listening?”  
  
“Yeah dude,” he answers vaguely. Charlie lets out a frustrated cry and holds the cue in a threatening manner, and Mac finds himself leaning closer to the action. 

“Unbelievable,” he hears Dennis mutter. 

Dennis’ hand is suddenly on his jaw, yanking his head around to focus on him. He lets his hand linger there for a minute as Mac’s eyes focus; he swallows hard when Dennis’ hand trails slowly down his neck and falls back onto the bar. 

“Listening now?” Dennis asks lowly. He has a weird look on his face that Mac can’t place, and the shots have made his cheeks flush prettily. He chews on his bottom lip, and Mac’s gaze is immediately diverted to it. 

“Yeah, sorry, Saturday,” Mac replies slowly. His mouth feels like syrup; he can’t stop looking at Dennis’ mouth. 

“Do you still not know what Saturday is?” Dennis asks irritably, and that finally penetrates through the warm haze in his head. He looks down at his hands, curled around an empty shot glass, and tries to focus. 

“Um… is it, like, our roommate anniversary or something?”   
  
He knows it’s not that. It was May when they moved into their apartment, two weeks after Dennis graduated from Penn. He’s stalling, hoping Dennis will just give up and tell him what he’s talking about. He’s way too drunk for this. 

“What, no, _you_ \- “ Dennis closes his eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s your goddamn birthday, Mac.”  
  
“Oh.” Right. Birthdays. He’d almost forgotten those were still a thing that happened, given the way the gang all tended to ignore their birthdays. None of them were particularly fond of acknowledging the passage of time in any capacity. “So?”   
  
“ _So_ , there’s also - the county fair in West Chester is this weekend.” 

Maybe it’s the dim lighting, but Mac swears the pink painting his cheeks grows a little darker. “And I found this Groupon thing, so I was thinking - “  
  
“I thought you hated fairs,” Mac interrupts. Dennis lets out an irritated little huff. “Dee said you puked all over her when we went to the Jersey Shore.”   
  
“First of all, I did not puke _all over_ her. It mostly just - flew into the air,” he says, hand waving vaguely. “And that doesn’t mean I hate _all_ fairs in general.”

Mac considers quietly for a minute. Dennis pours himself a shot and slams it back in the silence. Mac can feel his eyes on him. His fingers tap against the bar, the quiet ‘tick’ from his nails distracting Mac from answering. 

“So, do you want to go or not?” Dennis snaps. His fingers still, and when Mac focuses back on his face he’s met with that weird expression from before. 

“Oh, uh, sure,” he answers. He smiles. Dennis returns it; it’s not his wide, toothy grin, but the soft one he reserves for quiet moments like this that Mac secretly reveres, and his chest flutters wildly. 

“Okay,” Dennis says after a moment. He looks away and coughs, and picks up the bottle for another shot. He pours one out for Mac when he offers his glass. 

They clink their glasses to solidify the plan. Mac tilts his head back, focusing on the burning in his throat to distract himself from the burning on his cheeks. 

-

Dennis doesn’t bring it up again, and then it’s Friday and Mac is starting to wonder if he imagined the entire conversation. He _was_ pretty drunk when it happened. 

“Hey so, do you guys know what time we’re leaving tomorrow?” he asks Dee and Charlie when his anxiety gets the best of him.   
  
“What are you talking about?” Dee responds idly, barely glancing up from her sketching. She’s gotten back into fashion design again lately, never going anywhere without the goddamn sketchbook. Charlie is watching her sketch, interrupting her every now and then to give his input. 

“Add a ruffle to the shoulder.”  
  
“I’m not adding a goddamn ruffle Charlie, it’s not 1980. _Stop_ trying to tell me how to do this.”

“When are we leaving for West Chester?” Mac asks loudly before Charlie can start again.   
  
Charlie and Dee both look around at him with confused looks. 

“Why in the hell would we go to West Chester?” Dee asks. 

“For the - the fair? That’s where he said it is right?” Mac says, and Charlie’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. 

“Where _who_ said it is? Dude, seriously what are you talking about?” Charlie asks. 

“Did Dennis not tell you? We’re going to that fair tomorrow, for my birthday.”   
  
“No, he did _not_ ,” Dee snaps. She throws her pencil down dramatically. “That asshole, why would he not invite us?”   
  
“Ohhh, goddamn it,” Mac says quietly, but they don’t acknowledge him, too busy jabbering indignantly about not being invited. Mac tunes them out and tries to back away, but Charlie rounds on him before he’s far enough out of the vicinity. 

“When did he tell _you_ about it?” Charlie demands, high pitched and pissy. 

He opens his mouth, scrabbling for an answer just as Dennis walks in. 

“Dennis!” Dee squawks immediately. He freezes at the end of the bar, immediately defensive. “When exactly were you planning on telling us about the fair?” 

Dennis’ eyes lock with Mac’s immediately. Mac clears his throat and takes a long pull of his beer to avoid Dennis’ withering glare. 

“I um, I wasn’t,” Dennis answers. He sounds weird again. Mac wishes he could figure out what was behind that tone. 

“You weren’t gonna tell us?” Charlie squeals. 

The room descends into pandemonium as they all yell over each other. Mac catches snippets of Dee mentioning vomit, Charlie harping on about “carnival cuisine”, and Dennis shouting something along the lines of, “- don’t need to spend every goddamn _second_ together-”. Mac finishes his beer and observes quietly until Dennis finally roars for them to shut the fuck up and just buy tickets then. The room quiets as Dee looks up ticketing on her phone, and then Dennis is glaring at him again. 

“Way to go, asshole,” he snaps at Mac before stalking past him and slamming the door to the office. 

Which is how he finds himself sitting in the passenger seat the next morning, tense and silent while the rest of the gang chats excitedly behind them. Dennis is quiet too, still not really talking to him. He chances a glance at him, and Dennis’ face is stony as he concentrates on the road. He hadn’t even told him happy birthday this morning. 

The knot in his stomach gets tighter the longer they drive. The backseat quiets down after awhile, and Mac looks behind him to see that Frank, Charlie, and Dee have all fallen asleep. None of them were accustomed to waking up this early. 

“Uh, Dennis,” Mac says quietly. Dennis doesn’t respond, but he can tell he’s listening. “I’m um… I’m sorry for like, accidentally inviting them, or whatever. I thought this was like, a gang thing.”   
  
Dennis sighs, and his shoulders finally relax a minuscule amount. It’s progress. 

“It’s fine, they would have wormed their way in somehow probably,” Dennis says. “But I wanted this to just be like… our thing. Just for today.”   
  
The knot in his stomach bursts into a thousand butterflies trying desperately to escape through his throat. He swallows hard, doing his best to ignore the feeling. Dennis’ cheeks are pink again; the sun filtering in through the windshield is bright. He wonders if he remembered to put on sunscreen this morning. 

“We can ditch them,” Mac suggests. 

“Yeah, right,” Dennis says, tiny smile cracking the side of his face. Mac latches onto it.   
  
“No, we can! We’ll just make a run for it the second they take our ticket.” 

His smile widens, and he finally looks at Mac. It’s the soft smile again. 

“Okay,” Dennis agrees, turning his attention back to the road. “Okay, if we get separated we’ll meet up at the Ferris wheel.”   
  
Charlie mutters something in his sleep, and they stop talking, sharing a private grin when Charlie bolts awake a second later. 

-

The plan works flawlessly. Mac and Dennis make sure they’re the first ones in line, and the moment the ticket taker has handed Dennis his half he grabs Mac’s arm and they make a run for it, ignoring the shouts from the other three behind them. They weave around people, and at one point Dennis has to drop his arm so they can run around a large group of teenagers. When they reunite on the other side, Dennis grabs his hand and pulls him along. He doesn’t let go, even once they’re completely out of sight of the entrance. 

They stop to catch their breath in front of the biggest rollercoaster, the “Zydeco Scream”. It has three loops, and the screams of the other fair goers ring in his ears as the carts roll past them. 

“Let’s get in line,” Mac says excitedly, tugging Dennis a little closer to the entrance. Dennis goes still, pulling Mac back towards him.  

“No, we just got here, let’s go look around - “

“Look at what, dude? We should ride it before we eat, just in case you, you know.” He gestures to Dennis’ stomach.  
  
“I’m _not_ going to throw up,” Dennis argues, though he’s gone pale as he watches the red carts flip upside down. 

“Hey, assholes!” a familiar voice screeches behind them. They turn and both groan as Dee approaches them. Dennis finally drops his hand; it’s warm outside, but Mac feels suddenly cold without it. 

“What the hell was that?” Dee asks. 

They’re spared answering because Dee’s eyes light up when she sees the sign.   
“Oh _sweet_ , let’s get in line!”  
  
She grabs both of their arms and drags them to the entrance. Dennis tries to protest again, but between Dee and Mac both pulling and pushing it’s useless. The three of them stand in line, and people crowd in behind them, preventing Dennis from backing out. 

The line is short, and they’re being strapped into the seats less than five minutes later. Dennis is between Mac and Dee, and he grips the handles so hard his knuckles turn white. 

“Fuck,” Dennis grits out when the ride starts to move. It climbs slowly, and just as they’re about to reach the top he feels Dennis’ fingers scrambling over his. Dennis isn’t looking at him when he glances over; he’s staring straight ahead looking terrified. He drops the handle and grips Dennis’ hand tight, stomach flipping when Dennis clutches back. The cart tips over the crest, and then the only things he’s aware of are Dennis’ deafening screams, and the rush of adrenaline flooding his system. He doesn’t let go of Dennis’ hand the entire ride.  

-

“Holy shit that was amazing, let’s go again,” Dee gushes the minute they’re back on the grass.   
  
“Absolutely not,” Dennis gasps. He’s pale still, and closing his eyes tightly. 

“Come on you big baby,” Dee pushes. “Let’s go, before the line gets long!”   
  
“ _No_ ,” Dennis snaps, edge of finality to his voice. 

“Fine, Mac and I will go without you,” she says. She nudges Mac’s arm. “Come on Mac.”  
  
“Nah I’m gonna stay,” Mac says, eyes still watching Dennis carefully. Dennis’ eyes crack open to meet his. 

“God, whatever,” Dee sighs. She stomps away back to the line. 

“You okay dude?” Mac asks once she’s gone. He steps closer to Dennis and rubs a hand over his shoulders. 

“Yeah,” Dennis breathes. He leans into Mac’s touch. 

“Deep breaths,” Mac says quietly. Dennis listens, inhaling deep and breathing out of his mouth. Color slowly returns to his face. 

“We should get something to eat,” Mac suggests, looking around for the food stands.  

“Ugh,” Dennis grunts. He sways a little and grips Mac’s shoulder.   
  
“Dude, you’re about to pass out. Come on.”  
  
He wraps an arm around Dennis’ shoulder, and suppresses a shudder when he feels Dennis’ wrap around his waist. He knows how this must look to everyone, but realizes that today he doesn’t care. The only thing he’s concerned about is getting Dennis some food, and finding a way to make sure Dennis’ arm stays where it is the rest of the day. 

-

“That is _pure sugar_ Mac,” Dennis complains as Mac holds the cotton candy closer to his face. “Remember when you had diabetes? You’re gonna get it again, dude.”   
  
“Whatever, I’ll just get those insulin shots again and then I can eat all the sugar I want,” Mac answers, pulling off another huge piece. He groans happily as it dissolves on his tongue.   
  
“That’s almost certainly not how insulin works.” 

“Just _one_ piece, Den, come on,” Mac says.

Their arms are brushing as they walk through the crowded food court. They caught sight of Frank and Charlie at the pie eating contest earlier, ducking out of sight before they could spot them. Mac notices an abandoned stall, and without warning he steers Dennis over, crowding in front of him and holding the cotton candy between their faces. Dennis’ eyes are big as his back hits the wall. 

“Mac, what -“  
  
“Come on, just one bite,” Mac pleads. “It’s my birthday dude, you have to do what I want on my birthday.”  
  
“No I don’t,” Dennis argues. Mac can feel his warm breath on his face. “I already ate the goddamn hot dogs, I’m not even hungry.”

“Please?” 

Dennis watches him for a long moment before rolling his eyes hard and snatching the cotton candy stick from Mac’s hand. He pulls off a medium sized hunk of it, and makes a big show of putting it in his mouth. He delicately sucks on his fingers when he’s done, licking off all the extra sugar. Mac’s mouth is dry as Dennis’ tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

“Happy now?” Dennis asks. 

His lips are pink, and wet. There’s a small clump of sugar in the corner of his mouth that he missed. He bites his own lip as he stares at it. 

“Hey fellas, need you to move.”  
  
Mac whips around. It’s a kid, probably barely sixteen years old, wearing a carnival uniform and acting like it’s the biggest goddamn inconvenience in the world that he can’t get back to sweating inside the soft pretzel stand. 

“I’m actually pretty comfortable, thanks,” he snaps. 

“Sir, I -“ 

“I’m a paying customer, you little shit, so -“  
  
“Mac, come on -“  
  
“I’m - I’ll call my manager!”  
  
“Call him!” he snarls. 

The kid actually whips out a walkie talkie, and before he can say anything else Dennis’ hand is pulling him away, leading him towards the edge of the food stands. He’s muttering angrily to himself as he steers Mac away, but all Mac can concentrate on is the way his fingers curl tighter against his when other people bump into them. 

-

“Dennis come  _on_ , let’s just find the games!”

“No, your hands are disgusting. They’re sticky as shit.”

“Who  _cares_  bro. It might give me an advantage!”

“Mac, every single carnival game is about throwing some object at something else. There is no way sticky fingers would give you an advantage.”

“You don’t know that! Maybe they have some new games, like, how long you can hold something slippery. Like - like -“ he struggles for a few seconds, blanking completely. “A - fish?” 

Dennis laughs. “If there’s a game that requires you to hold onto a  _fish_ to win, I’ll blow you.” 

He says it casually, jokingly, but Mac stumbles and makes an undignified little choking sound. Dennis, determined to get them to the public bathrooms as quickly as possible, keeps walking and doesn’t notice. He realizes Mac isn’t next to him after a few steps and shoots a smug grin at him over his shoulder. 

And maybe it’s the good mood the carnival has put him in, or maybe he has a sugar high, or a lingering adrenaline rush from the roller coaster, but the next words out of his mouth surprise him. 

“You should blow me cause it’s my birthday, dude.”

He was aiming for light and teasing, but his voice is just strained enough that it comes out sounding like a request. They’ve reached the bathrooms, which are thankfully part of a building in the park and not just a collection of Port-a-Pottys. Dennis stops and leans back against the brick wall, smiling mildly as he gives Mac a once over that has him feeling exposed and a little breathless. Mac moves closer, acting on an instinct he doesn’t want to examine. Dennis watches him with hooded eyes; he shivers when they trail down to his mouth. 

“Your birthday isn’t over.”

Dennis’ eyes flick back to his. The sun is making them pop, the blue brighter than usual, beautiful and mesmerizing. 

“But if you don’t wash your hands, I’m not touching you at all.”

He grins again in the same sly way, and rolls off the wall and opens the door to the men’s room without another word. Mac is left gaping at the dirty brick, heart thudding against his ribcage. 

It’s just a joke, he tells himself. Dennis is just playing his stupid game of gay chicken to freak him out. Still, he doesn’t usually look at him like that. 

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair and grimaces when it catches. He follows Dennis inside to wash his hands, determined not to let him see how they’re shaking. 

-

“Give me another dollar.”

“Mac, for fuck’s sake, we’ve been here an  _hour_  dude.”

“I’m not leaving until I win,” Mac snaps, glaring at the attendant. The pimply teenager gulps and drops eye contact. “Come on I thought you wanted that elephant.”

“Jesus Chr- what I _said_ was, ‘that elephant kind of looks like Mr. Tibbs’,” Dennis snaps back. “I didn’t say I wanted to spend a goddamn hour watching you throw roughly four hundred darts at a balloon.”

“Whatever, just give me a dollar.”

“Mac I could have bought  _thirty_ stuffed elephants with the money already I’ve given you!” He huffs impatiently and throws his arms out to the side. “Can we please go ride the Ferris wheel? The suns about to set.”

“So?”

“So - I - we need to ride it at sunset!”

He’s blushing, Mac notes. That or they’ve been standing in the sun long enough that he’s finally starting to burn. 

“Look it’s  _my_  birthday, and I wanna try again. Come on, just one more?”

“You didn’t give a  _shit_  about your birthday until I - you know what, whatever, here.”

He thrusts his last few dollar bills in Mac’s hands and storms off towards the rides. Mac watches his retreating back for a few moments until the attendant coughs behind him. 

“Uh, sir? Sir if you’re gonna play again I need you to -“

He jumps as Mac whips back around. 

“Just give me the elephant.”

He stuffs the money into his pocket and picks up a spare dart from the counter. 

“I can’t - I can’t just give it to you,” the kid stammers. Mac glares and steps closer.

“Sir, I -“ 

“I just spent like, fifty bucks on this stupid,  _rigged_  game, just give me the goddamn elephant.” 

His voice is getting louder. Several people around them turn their attention to the commotion. 

“Sir it’s policy, I can’t -“

“Give me the elephant or I swear I’ll put this dart through your goddamn hand you little -“

“Okay!” The kid acquiesces. “Okay, here!”

He hurries over to the prizes and grabs the elephant, and tosses it to Mac from the other side of the booth. 

“See that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Mac asks as he drops the dart on the counter and holds his hand up innocently. He walks away before the kid can try and call security, and hustles in the direction of the Ferris wheel. 

He reaches it in time to see Dennis getting into a cart by himself. He pushes his way through the crowd, ignoring the indignant shouts at him to get in line, but he still doesn’t make it. The operator pushes a button, and Dennis’ cart takes off. 

“Shit - hey, dude? Sir?” Mac calls, pushing forward until he’s hovered in front of the operator. 

“Get behind the yellow line,” the man instructs. He sounds bored, and Mac tries to use that to his advantage. 

“Sorry,” he says as he steps back. “My uh, my friend just got on and I need to - get him his medicine, so could you -“

“What kind of medicine?” 

“Uh. His um - knee - medicine? I think it’s called - Kneezy.” 

The man blinks at him. 

“That’s not an emergency -“

“ _Ugh_ , look just. Stop the ride when his cart comes around so I can get on, please? I have -“ he pulls the crumpled bills out of his pocket, “four bucks?” 

“God I don’t get paid enough for this,” the guy sighs. “Which cart?” 

Mac hands over the money and points out Dennis. The man waits until Dennis reaches the bottom and stops the ride.

“That was only one rotation, you dick, what the hell -“

He stops, gaping at Mac as he climbs into the cart with him. 

“What are you -“

“Here!” Mac says brightly. He hands Dennis the elephant and crawls in, cursing as he knocks his head against the top bar. He sits next to Dennis and starts feeling around the seat. 

“Where’s the seat belt?”

Dennis doesn’t answer. Mac is looking around, hands searching all over the plastic seats for the belt.

“Dennis? Where -“

He doesn’t finish the question, trailing off when he catches sight of Dennis’ face. He’s staring at the plush animal in his hands like it just promised to give him everything he’s ever wanted. 

The ride jolts to life, and Mac’s hand grips Dennis’ arm on instinct. Dennis jumps, eyes focusing on Mac’s hand on his wrist. 

“Dude, the seatbelt?”

“There aren’t seatbelts on a Ferris wheel you moron,” Dennis answers. His voice sounds tight, like he’s talking around something caught in his throat. 

“Well there should be, this thing could capsize at any second, bro.” He thinks it over for a second while Dennis remains still and quiet next to him. “But - well okay a seatbelt would trap us in I guess, and we wouldn’t be able to jump to safety -“

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” 

Dennis’ voice is shaky but resilient. Mac looks at him, and he’s staring at Mac the same way he was just looking at the elephant. His cheeks are bright pink.

Mac’s heart is in his throat as the words slowly process and take hold in his brain. He feels his mouth fall open in shock but can’t make himself stop. 

“What?” he croaks. 

They’ve reached the top and are stopped. The setting sun is slanting in through the window of the cart. The sky is swirled with pink and orange, and the light softens the features of Dennis’ face. His cheeks are growing redder as he stares at Mac. 

“Why haven’t - this _whole_ day I’ve been - Jesus, just forget it,” Dennis stammers. He turns his attention back to the stuffed elephant in his hands.

“No, Dennis, what are you talking about?” 

“ _Forget it_ Mac, let’s just move past it.”   
  
“No.”  
  
Dennis looks at him then, eyes wild, taking a deep breath the way he always does before he starts yelling. Mac leans in before he can start, and feels his startled breath against his mouth as he kisses him. 

He tastes like cotton candy. His mouth is warm and soft, and Mac’s tongue chases the sweet sugar crystals that have been tormenting him all day. Dennis opens his mouth, sighing as Mac’s hands come up to card through his hair. He feels the elephant fall softly on his feet when Dennis drops it to wrap his arms around Mac’s back. He pulls Mac closer, moaning softly in a way that melts all the way down Mac’s spine to his toes. Mac shifts, trying to make more room for him, when Dennis suddenly rears back. 

“Shit, Mr. Tibbs!” he cries, leaning over and watching just as the toy hits the grass softly. Mac leans forward, mouth still chasing Dennis’. “You kicked it out!”   
  
“I didn’t kick it, you did,” Mac argues. 

“Goddammit now some kid is gonna - _hey_! _Drop that you little shit_!” He screams as a little boy picks it up delightedly. 

“Den chill, I’ll get you another one,” Mac says, letting his hand on his neck rub over Dennis’ skin soothingly. Dennis leans into it, attention drawing back to Mac. 

They watch each other quietly for a minute. The ride has moved again, moving faster and making Mac dizzy. His hand is still tracing circles against Dennis’ neck, and Dennis ducks his head and smiles. 

“Um. Happy birthday,” Dennis says softly. 

And then it’s Dennis leaning forward, kissing Mac like it’s what he was made for. They don’t notice when the ride stops, and have to be interrupted by the operator and rudely shoved out. Mac makes a scene, accuses him of being homophobic, and demands a replacement stuffed elephant for their trouble. The man rolls his eyes but disappears into one of the nearby game tents and returns with an even bigger one than the original, and tells them to fuck off. 

-

Dee makes fun of Dennis mercilessly when she sees him carrying the stuffed elephant, but Dennis is weirdly unfazed. He flips her off and makes her ride in the middle on the way home, stuffed between Charlie and Frank, nauseated and burping constantly from the massive overeating. 

They name him Mr. Tibbs Jr. He’s flung aside unceremoniously when they get home so Dennis can press Mac against a wall and make good on his birthday promise. But when Mac wakes up the next morning with Dennis curled against his chest, he sees that it’s taken up its rightful place on Dennis’ nightstand.  

-


	13. I thought you didn't want me

-

“I can’t believe you’re already getting a divorce, dude,” Mac says sluggishly, tipping his head back against the cushion. “That’s gotta be like, a record. You probably beat Britney Spears.”

“No way,” Dennis scoffs. “She was married for like, fifty hours -”

“Fifty-five,” Mac corrects. He shifts in place next to Dennis, trying to find a more comfortable position for his neck. 

Dennis groans and presses his forehead more firmly against the tabletop. It feels sticky, like Charlie didn’t wipe down the booths during close. He needs to remember to ream him out tomorrow, but at the moment it’s hard to even remember his own name. 

“It really speak-speaks, to how deluded you are, that you can both know Britney Spears trivia an’ also think you’re straight.” He’s slurring, words jumbling together and feeling like molasses in his mouth. 

He waits for the outburst, but it doesn’t come. He lifts his head and squints at Mac, who’s staring hard at the empty bottle in his hands. 

“Lots of people know that, dude,” Mac argues weakly. He runs a hand through his hair, and several spots are sticking almost straight up. His fingers itch to fix it. “‘S like, common knowledge. ’M not like, gay for knowing something everyone knows.” 

“Okay,” Dennis sighs. He’s too tired for this. “Where are we gonna sleep?”

“I slept on the pool table,” Mac answers. A shadow flashes over his face. “The night you kicked me out, I mean.”

“Goddamnit, is that why the felt was all fucked up?” He hiccups, undermining the ire in his voice. “That took hours to fix, dude!”

Mac’s face darkens again. His voice is high and breathy when he says, “You kicked me out! What was I supposed to do?” 

“Sleep in the office! Like a normal goddamn person!”

“I can’t sleep sitting up, you know that -”

“Jesus - okay, whatever. Stop. I’m not getting into this with you, let’s just - I’m gonna brush my teeth.”

He starts to clumsily slide out of the booth, limbs too long and mind too fuzzy, when Mac’s hand closes over his and stops him. 

“Dennis I’m -” 

He trails off, and he’s looking at him in a way Dennis hasn’t seen in months. Like Dennis is the only person in the world, like Dennis is the only person he gives a shit about. 

He swallows, blinking and focusing on the warm fingers on his skin. Mac hasn’t touched him like this since that night at Guiginos. It’s embarrassing how badly Dennis wants him, so immediate and forceful it hits him like a punch to the gut. Blood rushes to his cheeks, and heat floods through his veins; he feels overheated, too exposed, too much. 

“You’re what?” he finally manages to ask. 

“Um. I’m sorry that - that you and - that Maureen - you know.” 

His hand is still on Dennis’ wrist. He fixes Dennis with what he probably thinks is a sincere expression, but all Dennis can see is the same heat that’s crawling across his skin mirrored in Mac’s face. 

“No you’re not,” Dennis says. 

He leans forward at the same time Mac does, mouths meeting hot and slotting together perfectly. Mac makes a quiet pleased noise, the same one he always made when Dennis kissed him unexpectedly, and his chest aches. His lips and tongue move instinctively, muscle memory helping him to remember how to make Mac sigh against his lips, how to make him fist his hands in Dennis’ collar and pull him closer. He’s breaking every rule that he’d made for himself, but the alcohol and the dizzying way it feels to touch Mac again is intoxicating, snuffing out rational thought. Mac tastes familiar, like a hint of whiskey, like forbidden fruit he thought he’d never have again. 

Mac breaks the kiss to breathe and pull Dennis closer, grunting in frustration when Dennis can’t quiet fit on his lap. 

“Sideways, babe,” Dennis murmurs, pet name slipping out without his permission. 

Mac shifts until his back rests against the corner of the booth, and pulls Dennis to him before he’s even fully settled in place. Their limbs tangle as Dennis climbs into his lap. He kisses Mac desperately, all tongue and teeth, biting at his lips. Mac cups his face in his hands and eases Dennis back down, until their mouths are moving lazy and sweet and effortless together. His hands curl in Mac’s t-shirt. He’d almost forgotten this part, how easily Mac could read him, how he could sense Dennis’ mood with just a glance. How he knew exactly how to touch him to bring him back to himself. 

He loses track of time; they stay tucked in the booth, just kissing and letting themselves touch for what feels like several hours. He breaks away eventually, taking in shuddering breaths and feels Mac do the same with his face pressed against Dennis’ neck. Sunlight has started to peek through the dirty window. Mac leans back to look at him, and Dennis catches a hint of gold flicking in his dark eyes. Mac always looked beautiful in early morning light. 

His legs ache, cramped from the way he has them tucked around Mac’s hips, but he makes no attempt to move. He doesn’t want to confront his reality outside of this booth, but Mac shatters the illusion with the grace of an elephant in a greenhouse.

“Why did you marry her?”

His voice is hoarse, wrecked from Dennis’ mouth and from the storm of emotions he can see brewing behind his eyes. He shakes his head, closing his eyes when the action makes the room spin even more than it already is. Mac’s hands fall to his waist, pulling him closer. 

“I don’t know,” Dennis lies in a hushed voice.

He knows. The reason is sitting underneath him, letting Dennis’ hands run up his chest, push through his messy hair. “But it’s over, remember?” 

“Yeah but - you still did it,” Mac presses stubbornly. His hand freezes on Mac’s shoulder. “You - you traded me for her without even a thought, Dennis -”

“What do you care?” Dennis interrupts. Anger is flickering to life in his chest, replacing the pleasant warmth in his blood with searing fire. “You’re the one that ended - this -” he gestures between them. “So don’t start with this blame shit, bro.” 

“I’m not blaming you! I’m just - I don’t - Christ, Den -”

“I thought you didn’t want me.” 

Two nights before they graduated high school, they were in his room, looking over graduation papers spread across Dennis’ bed. Dennis had more to go through and sign indiscriminately as he was actually going to college. At one point Mac tossed aside his final report card, utterly disinterested in the entire process, and Dennis snagged it before Mac could stop him. He’d scoffed, and told Mac that if he wasn’t so goddamn stupid they could be going to Penn together. 

The way Mac had looked at him stuck with Dennis all these years, equal parts heartbroken and incredulous, like he couldn’t quite believe Dennis would say something like that to him. The way Mac is looking at him now reminds him horribly of that day, the image in his mind aging forty years in seconds right in front of him. 

The words hang between them, so heavy that if he tried he could probably reach out and pluck them right out of the air, and tuck them back where they belong. 

Mac doesn’t say a word. Dennis sighs and starts to shuffle off his lap. This will just be another in a long list of things they don’t talk about, and he’ll spend the next two weeks straight drinking until his brain rearranges the memory so that he’ll think it was a dream. 

Fingers dig into his hips as he tries to pull away. 

“Den,” Mac says quietly. 

He’s not looking at him, gaze focused somewhere around Dennis’ collarbone. Dennis captures his jaw, one finger lightly resting under his chin. Mac looks at him then, keeps looking as Dennis’ thumb traces his bottom lip. His mouth replaces his thumb, lips pressing gently against Mac’s one more time. Mac makes a choked noise that could be a sob if Dennis didn’t know better, and his hands hold Dennis’ head in place as he kisses back. Dennis allows it for one minute, then two, before he pulls himself completely from Mac’s grip. 

“It’s six am, we need to get some sleep.” 

He crawls into the other side of the booth, tossing and turning and avoiding Mac’s eyes until he’s comfortable enough to maybe fall into a fitful sleep. He closes his eyes, head resting on his outstretched arm. Mac shuffles around, grunting and sighing in a familiar way as he tries to find a decent position. His hand brushes Dennis’ and stays there when he thinks Dennis is asleep, and he pretends not to notice when Dennis’ fingers intertwine with his. 

-


	14. you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompts:   
> "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."   
> "Shut up and kiss me."

-

“Dennis, stop. _Stop_.” 

He yanks on Dennis’ arm until he finally stops storming away. They’ve reached the alley outside, and he shivers as the cold night air reaches his exposed skin. They’re both absurdly dressed considering the temperature, and he sees that Dennis shaking too, though he’s not certain it’s just from the cold. 

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Dennis snips. 

“Jesus - I was just having a conversation, Dennis -”

“Bullshit, you couldn’t stop touching his arms. ‘Wow you’re so ripped, what’s your arm routine bro? How much weight do you bench?’” Dennis mocks. He plays it cool, but his chest is heaving, breaths puffing out fast in the cold air. 

Mac bites his lip to keep from laughing, knowing it will only piss him off more. He shuffles closer into Dennis’ space infinitesimally, careful to stay out of range of his hand. 

“Dennis, baby… do you seriously think I was flirting with him? I go to the gym like, all the time dude, I really wanted to hear about his routine.” 

“You didn’t have to touch him to find that out, did you?” Dennis snaps. 

“Oh my god - Den, come _on_.” 

He steps closer still, crowding Dennis against the brick wall and pinning his wrists to his side. 

“ _Mac_ ,” Dennis complains. He doesn’t try to pull free though, sighing as Mac presses his nose to his neck, just below his ear. 

“How could I even look at anyone else with you there, huh?” Mac asks softly. He feels Dennis shudder as he presses his lips to his skin.

“You _were_ looking,” Dennis insists, but some of the heat behind his words has already fizzled. Mac grins. Dennis is a lot of things; selfish, and jealous, and _vain._ But he can never seem to resist Mac’s full and undivided devotion, and is even more susceptible to it when he’s feeling insecure.

“No, no way, you’re imagining things,” Mac says, lips trailing over his jaw now. Dennis angles his head slightly to give him better access, and he knows he’s won. 

But, just to be sure, “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”  

If he said that to anyone else on earth, they’d probably laugh in his face. Dennis melts, body going lax as Mac’s mouth reaches his cheek, pressing warm insistent kisses there. He feels Dennis flush against his lips. 

“Just - shut up and kiss me,” Dennis breathes. 

Mac obliges, dropping Dennis’ wrists to cup his face in his hands and press their mouths together. Dennis kisses back hot and open mouthed, tongue running over the roof of Mac’s mouth, like he wants Mac to remember this. He leans closer, pressing him further into the brick, and groans when their legs slot together just right. Dennis’ hands creep under Mac’s tank top and he jerks back. 

“Jesus your hands are _freezing_ ,” he yelps, yanking Dennis’ hands out from his shirt. 

“Yeah, well, that’s what you get for flirting right under my nose,” Dennis retorts, smirking and reaching for Mac’s neck. 

“ _Don’t_ ,” Mac warns. He backs away until Dennis is the one pressing him against the wall. 

He lets out an undignified shriek as Dennis curls one hand around his neck, and slides one under his shirt to rest on his stomach. They wrestle as Mac tries to wriggle out of Dennis’ grip and keep Dennis’ hands from his skin. He manages to pin him after a few moments, and stops Dennis in his tracks by kissing him again, nipping at his bottom lip. Dennis sighs, breathing out Mac’s name. 

“Mine,” Dennis murmurs against his lips, so softly Mac isn’t sure he said it at all.  

-


	15. I know it hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompts:   
> "I know it hurts."  
> "You're safe now."

-

“Owww. That _hurts_.”

“I know it hurts. Stop being a baby and let me wrap it, unless you’d like to try.”

Mac groans and leans back against the pillows, throwing his arm over his eyes dramatically. They got back from the hospital an hour ago, and Mac had been bitching about the pain since Dennis had graciously set him up in his bed. Mac’s mild germaphobia doesn’t seem to extend to his linens, as Dennis is sure his sheets haven’t been washed in at least a month. Infection would be inevitable, and then he’d be even more whiny and unbearable.

“Take your pill,” Dennis says. He opens the bottle for him, shaking out one of the white pills and handing it to Mac’s outstretched hand.

“I think I should take more than one, dude. It like, really hurts.”

“ _No_ ,” Dennis says emphatically. “You asked out every doctor in the hospital last time you took two. You asked your surgeon if he wanted to get high on nitrous under the a bridge.”

“Yeah well, he was hot.”

“He’s seventy years old, and not even remotely hot. Come on, lift your leg up.”

Mac sighs and lifts his ankle. It rises to barely an inch off the mattress. His face is screwed up in pain. It makes something pinch in Dennis’ chest, memories of endless nights of Mac crying and shaking at the hospital still fresh in his mind. He takes pity and grabs Mac’s foot, gently lifting it onto the stack of pillows. Mac lets out a harsh breath and falls back again, breaths coming shallow and fast.

Dennis gets to work, cleaning and dressing Mac’s wound exactly how the nurse had taught him. He has an abundance of metal in his leg now, something Mac had initially been excited about until it became clear just how painful a shattered tibia was. He’d had to have two surgeries in quick succession, and it turns out he’s not as much of a badass as he always pretended.

Mac starts to drift off throughout the process, but startles awake when Dennis starts to clean up the empty gauze packets.

“Dennis?”

“Yeah buddy?”

Mac doesn’t say anything for a moment. His eyes are glassy as he takes in his surroundings, brows pinched together.

“We at the hospital?”

“No, we’re home now, remember?”

Mac mumbles something incoherent. He can tell he’s already out of it from the drugs, having watched this exact routine every day for three weeks.

First comes the flirting.

“You look nice,” Mac slurs, right on cue. “Like a pretty flower. A pretty, blue flower.”

His eyes rake up and down Dennis’ body in a way that made him blush the first few times it happened, but now he barely looks up from the ace bandage he’s rolling up.

“Thanks,” he answers. He makes sure to grin at Mac appreciatively. If he doesn’t, Mac will end up in the sad and weepy stage faster than usual.

“I mean it, you’re so pretty Dennis,” he presses. “You’re like - like - “ he trails off, losing his train of thought quickly and focusing on a spot near Dennis’ window for a long minute. Dennis takes the opportunity to toss his trash and use the hand sanitizer he’s now keeping on the bed side table.

Mac’s eyes flick back to Dennis, smiling lazily in his doped up way. “Hey, can I kiss you?”

“Not right now,” Dennis says offhandedly.

He reaches out to pat his shoulder, but Mac grabs his hand before he can and presses his lips to his knuckles.

“ _Mac_ ,” he says irritably, hoping it’s dim enough that Mac can’t see the flush of his cheeks.

“Thank you,” Mac mutters. He doesn’t drop Dennis’ hand, and his eyes are wet when he looks up. Right on time for stage two: weepy and existential.

“Really Dennis, _thank you_ ,” he continues, voice so serious and full of conviction Dennis almost laughs. He pulls Dennis closer by the hand still clutched in his. “You took such good care of me bro, you’re like - you’re my _best_ friend.”

“I know Mac,” he sighs.

“I mean it, dude. I _love_ you.”

He ignores the uptick in his heartbeat. Mac would typically be too choked up to talk at this point, he never got quite this sappy.

“Yeah, well, who else was gonna take care of you?” Dennis says lightly, trying to ease his way out of this conversation and his hand out of Mac’s. The room feels stifling, growing warmer the longer Mac looks at him like that.

“I could have _died_ dude,” Mac says in awe, for about the thousandth time. He’s slurring worse now; they probably have about five minutes until he passes out for twelve hours straight. “I could have - since when do security guards carry _guns_?”

“Lots of them have guns, Mac. Just be happy it was only your leg.”

“ _You_ could have died,” Mac says, voice hushed. “Den, we almost - we -“

“Mac, stop,” he cuts him off. He pulls his hand out of his grip and settles it in Mac’s hair. “We’ve been through this so many goddamn times, I’m tired of talking about it.”

“We have?”

He cards his hand through his hair, trying to suppress the irritation in his voice. “Yeah man. You never remember cause you’re fucked up on fentanyl.”

“Oh.”

“It’s fine, okay? We’re fine, you’re safe now, and you’re home. Go to sleep.”

He removes his hand and turns to gather the various gauze, ointments, and wraps sprawled on his bed.

“Dennis?”

His voice is small. He sounds so young when he asks, “Will you stay?”

It doesn’t surprise him, because Mac asked him the same thing every night for three weeks straight. It’s why Dennis slept on the uncomfortable hospital couch for three weeks, why his back had been aching like a mother for twenty plus days. And every morning, his complaints died in his throat when he caught a glimpse of Mac staring at him in awe from his bed, like he couldn’t believe Dennis was still there.

“I’ll stay,” he promises again. He crawls onto the other side of the bed, and Mac’s hand finds his before he’s even settled in.

It’s several minutes before Mac’s breathing evens, snoring softly because he can’t exactly roll onto his side in his condition. Dennis curls around him, careful not to jostle his leg, and if he presses his lips to his cheek again it’s not like Mac will remember in the morning.

-


	16. that was kind of hot

-

“Come on Mac, one more time.”

Mac sighs heavily and collapses into the couch cushions. “Dude, we’ve been over this like, so many times. I’m exhausted.”

“We go on _tomorrow_. And you still forget half your lines every goddamn time.”

He laughs, taking in the image of Dennis clutching his tattered script nervously. He can almost see the cold sweat on his forehead.

“Why are you freaking out? It’s not like it matters anyway, I’m the star. I can say whatever I want.”

“Ok, several points,” Dennis snaps, nerves forgotten in an instant as he glares at Mac. He jerks the script towards him petulantly. “One, you are not the star. I’m the hero, automatically making me the star.”

“Bullshit - “

“ _Two_ ,” Dennis continues loudly, “you cannot just say whatever you want! That’s lazy, and bad acting, and I refuse to let you drag me down to your level.”

“God, alright,” Mac acquiesces. “If you’re gonna be such a bitch about it. _One_ more time, and then you shut up and let me watch Amazing Race until I pass out.”

“Fine,” Dennis says. He rolls his eyes, though not as hard as usual, and doesn’t seem to hear Mac mutter “fucking baby” under his breath. He takes it as a win.

They get back into their places and rehearse the scene for the fiftieth time that night. Mac still forgets at least three lines, and Dennis takes it out on him by kneeing him in the dick during the fight sequence.

“ _Jesus_ , dude,” Mac gasps as he keels over.

“Remember your fucking lines. It’s really not that hard,” Dennis says loftily, waving his hand dismissively and examining the script.

“Goddammit, who gives a shit!” Mac snaps. “No one is even gonna be looking at you! I’ve got the cat eyes bro, all eyes are gonna be right here.”

He gestures to himself proudly. Dennis looks incredulous for a moment, then barks out a laugh.

“Jesus christ, you are so delusional it’s not even funny anymore.”

He shoves Dennis’ shoulders. He actually looks shocked for a second, but it quickly fades into anger.

“The fight scene isn’t until the next page,” he says lowly. “You can’t even get that right - “

Mac crashes into him and the end of his sentence is lost to a painful grunt. They fall onto the couch, arms and legs slapping and kicking indiscriminately. It’s messy; Dennis tries to get his knee up to push Mac off, but Mac gets his leg over his hips and pins both of Dennis’ legs between his own. Dennis’ presses the palm of one hand against Mac’s cheek, and he cries out, frustrated as his neck twists painfully.

“Goddammit - _Dennis_ ,” he mumbles angrily against Dennis’ fingers.

“ _Get off_ ,” Dennis snaps back. Mac sees his other hand reaching for him out of the corner of his eye and manages to grab it. He takes hold of his wrist, then the other that’s still working to push him off, and traps them both above Dennis’ head.

Dennis’ gasp is sharp and hot against his face, suddenly much closer than a moment ago. They breathe together, both panting and staring at each other as their breaths mingle.

It takes a long time, much longer than it should, for him to realize his dick is pressed against Dennis’, and that he’s staring at his mouth. Dennis’ cheeks are flushed, and he’s stopped struggling, watching Mac with a smug little smile that makes his stomach twist.

“Well… that was kind of hot,” Dennis says.

“What?”

“Come on.” His voice is sweet and dangerous, where it was angry and dangerous just moments ago. “You’re not feeling this?”

“Den - no, of course not,” Mac sputters. He doesn’t move though, doesn’t pull away from Dennis even a little. He’s almost as scared of what will happen if he does as he is of the inexorable pull he feels to get closer.

Dennis smirks, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who’s wrists are still pinned to the couch. “Tell that to your boner.”

“I - it’s - it’s my wallet,” he lies, flushing hard head to toe.

He lets go of Dennis’ wrists then, but before he can clamber off the couch and retreat to his bedroom to isolate himself from society for the rest of his life, Dennis’ freed hands latch onto his neck. He pulls Mac down, kissing him hard enough that their teeth clack together.

Mac gasps when Dennis pulls back, but doesn’t have time to find his breath before Dennis’ mouth is on his again, softer this time. He feels warm all over, shuddering embarrassingly when Dennis’ tongue teases against his bottom lip. He lets Dennis lick into his mouth. His hands are in Mac’s hair, and Mac sinks further into him.

He comes back to himself when Dennis rolls his hips against his. He moans low into Dennis’ mouth and pulls back, ignoring the way his dick twitches when he takes in Dennis’ debauched face.

“Should we…?” Mac asks with bated breath.

“No,” Dennis murmurs. Mac’s heart sinks, but then his hands cup Mac’s face and he kisses him gentle and soft again.

“No, baby. We can use this for tomorrow. If we fuck now we’ll lose all the sexual tension in the performance.”

“Dennis,” he whines, hating how desperate it sounds. His forehead falls against Dennis’. “Charlie said it’s not supposed to be sexual - “

“Tomorrow,” Dennis interrupts, and it sounds like a promise.

Dennis kisses him hot and open once more, taking advantage of the way Mac melts into him to push him off fully. He stretches, and Mac’s eyes are fixed on the strip of skin that’s exposed above his belt.

“Learn your lines,” Dennis says. He picks up the discarded script and thrusts it in Mac’s hands before striding over to his room.

“And don’t you dare jerk off,” he adds from the doorway of his bedroom. Mac chokes, and hurls the script at Dennis’ door, cursing Dennis and his shit eating grin.

-


	17. oh fuck he saw me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompts:  
> "Oh, fuck, he saw me."  
> "Well, I’m happy you think of me when you’re drunk."  
> "Can someone shoot him?"

 

  **-**

Dennis nearly throws his phone across the room when he sees who’s calling him for the tenth time in as many minutes. He angrily pauses the TV and taps “answer” with more force than strictly necessary. **  
**

“Jesus Mac, _what_?”

Mac doesn’t even react to his tone; he starts talking before Dennis even finishes his sentence.

“Dude, you have to help me,” he says in a rushed whisper, sounding desperate. “He just told me he’s never seen a single ‘Predator’ movie. Not even the _first_ one.”

“So what?”

“‘So _what_?’” Mac repeats incredulously. “He’s never seen ‘Die Hard’ either! Says he finds the whole genre ‘superficial’, or some shit.”

There’s a beat of silence where Dennis strongly considers hanging up on him.

“Again, so? Why are you calling me?” he snaps.

“‘Cause you gotta get me out of here,” Mac pleads. Dennis feels a pang of vindictive pleasure shoot through him.

“You mean, it’s _not_ working out with the dude who’s ‘a ten by every standard known to man’?” he asks derisively. “That the dude with an IQ of twenty _isn’t_ great company - “

“Shut up, yes,” Mac interrupts angrily. “I can’t talk to someone who uses words like ‘genre’, Dennis.”

“You talk to me,” he points out. He can almost see the frustrated scowl on Mac’s face.

“You know what I mean,” Mac retorts. “Come on man, talking to him is fucking _miserable_. I’m hiding behind the fountain at Tony’s, you have to help me.”

“Jesus, you’re a goddamn adult Mac. Just ditch.”

“I _can’t_ , I see him at the gym everyday. I need to get rid of him carefully, I can’t change gyms again, bro.”

“You know what, I don’t have time for this,” Dennis says haughtily. “I’m in an important meeting about the bar, _our_ bar, if you remember, that _you_ decided to ditch for this date.”

“The meeting ended an hour ago. You’re drinking box wine and watching ‘America’s Next Top Model’,” Mac says matter of factly.

“I - fuck you,” he spits, nearly breaking the stem of his wine glass as he slams it on the coffee table. “How did you know that?”

“It’s Thursday and it’s the finals,” Mac explains hurriedly, as if he’s so predictable. “Also Dee told me you stormed out when Frank tried to cut our pay to pay for repairs.”

“Whatever, I don’t give a shit. You got yourself into this so you can figure it out yourself,” he says in a rush. “It’s not my job to bail you out of bad dates - “

“I’ve done it for you! Like, a shitload of times!” Mac exclaims, not bothering to whisper now. “And I - oh _fuck_ , he saw me.”

There’s a clatter on Mac’s end that he can only assume is because Mac dropped his phone as he dove onto the floor to hide. There’s a scraping sort of racket when Mac scrambles to pick the phone back up.

“Please Den, you owe me,” Mac begs, voice low and pleading. “Remember Rebecca Thompson?”

“Fuck,” he breathes. He’d thought Mac had forgotten about that.

He looks longingly between the wine and the paused frame of Tyra Banks on his TV. If Mac hadn’t brought up Rebecca he wouldn’t have thought twice about ditching Mac, remembering the unpleasant way his skin prickled, hot and bitter every time Mac talked about this dude. But he does owe him, and Dennis isn’t a barbarian.

“Alright,” he agrees. Mac breathes a sigh of relief in his ear. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do…”

-

Dennis finds Mac and his date immediately. They’re sitting in a booth in the middle of the restaurant. Mac is gesturing exuberantly, the way he does when he’s had too much to drink. He has a half full margarita in one hand that’s sloshing over the sides as his hands toss around wildly. His date doesn’t seem entirely put off yet, just mildly concerned as Mac slams the rest of the drink back and messily wipes his mouth. Dennis smiles to himself and gets into character.

“Mac?” he calls as he wanders over to their table.

Two pairs of eyes land on him, Mac’s glassy, his date’s sharp and curious. The red tie he’d borrowed from Dennis is loosened, collar of his black button up popped open a little. For a weird moment Dennis feels a little sorry for the guy that he’s about to ruin his chance to bang Mac.

Mac grins bright and lazy when he sees Dennis, making something stir in his chest.

“Den! You came!” he greets loudly. He’s slurring, but it seems genuine, and he realizes Mac took him literally when he suggested “getting a little too drunk”.

“Yeah, I uh - I didn’t know you’d have _company_ ,” Dennis answers, peppering in just the right amount of polite discomfort in his tone.

“Right, right sorry,” Mac says. He points to his date. “Dennis, this is Greg. Greg, Dennis.”

Dennis shakes Greg’s hand, trying to look sheepish.

“Nice to meet you,” Greg says neutrally.

“Likewise. Sorry to interrupt,” he adds. “When Mac called, I didn’t realize he wasn’t alone.”

“Dennis is my ex-lover,” Mac faux whispers to Greg.

Dennis does his best to keep his expression politely embarrassed, though the wince is all too real.

“Oh,” Greg says, eyebrows raised in shock. “Oh, um…”

“I’m sorry,” Dennis says quietly, leaning over to Greg conspiratorially, exaggeratedly apologetic. “He always does this when he’s been drinking… you’re not the first date I’ve accidentally interrupted. I don’t think he’s ever really gotten over me.”  

“I miss you when I’m drunk, baby,” Mac interrupts pathetically. Dennis’ heart rate ticks up a little. He glances over his shoulder and almost laughs at the dramatic pout on Mac’s face.

“Well, I’m happy you think of me when you’re drunk, but maybe you shouldn’t keep calling me like this, Mac.”

“I um - I can give you two a minute,” Greg offers, touching Dennis’ arm.

“No, no need, please. Don’t let this spoil your night. I just wanted to make sure he was alright, I’ll go - “

“Stay!” Mac cries. Right on cue he tugs Dennis down into the empty space next to him. Greg looks extremely uncomfortable, smiling tightly at them across the table.

“Mac, I don’t think I should,” Dennis says. “We’re making George feel awkward.”

“No, you’re - it’s Greg,” Greg stammers. “And it’s - one drink couldn’t hurt, I guess.”

Dennis shrugs and smiles charmingly. “If you insist.”

He flags down a waitress and orders a whiskey sour, and then the real work begins. Mac launches into a story that Dennis immediately loses track of, because he’s expending all of his conscious thought on Mac’s hand that’s materialized on his thigh like it belongs there.  

Mac catches his eye briefly, silently asking if this is okay. He shifts his leg closer to Mac’s in answer. He’d told Mac to touch him, to get handsy; he should have expected this would be his idea of flirtatious touching. At least Greg has noticed already; his eyes flick down to Mac’s hand every few minutes.

It migrates higher and higher as Mac talks. Dennis only catches snippets of the conversation. Mac’s thumb starts tracing lazy circles on the inside of his thigh, making his heart skip several beats. Dennis focuses on gulping down his drink. His thoughts get fuzzier with every centimeter Mac’s hand crawls up Dennis’ leg.

“… and then Cricket shattered her kneecaps, and Charlie collapsed, and the homeless dude won, remember Dennis?”

“Hm?” Dennis murmurs.

He catches Mac’s eye, and there’s a moment where they just look at each other, both exceedingly aware of their proximity.

“Sounds crazy,” Greg’s voice interrupts their moment. “Bet you were pissed.”

“Yeah,” Dennis says idly, still looking at Mac. Mac’s cheeks are flushed, and Dennis’ eyes catch on his tongue flicking out to lick his lips. He can’t believe this dude is still here for all of this.

“So uh… when did you guys - ”

“You know, Greg,” Mac stutters, words still coming out a jumbled mess. “Me and Dennis have been through a lot, right Den?”

Mac shifts closer. “In fact, one time, we - we - “

His sentence is consumed by a fit of giggles, and he leans into Dennis as he laughs, breathing into his neck. He shivers, goosebumps erupting across his skin where Mac is touching him. He isn’t even sure how much Mac is exaggerating anymore as he all but hangs off of Dennis’ shoulder.

“One time what?” Greg asks, voice a little tense but still impressively cordial.

“You know what, I’m gonna - I’ll let Mac tell the story, excuse me,” he says, peeling himself away from Mac.

He hears Mac’s voice trail away as he strides towards the bathrooms, breaths a little shallow. He hears footsteps behind him, and Mac pulls him around to face him just outside the door.

“What are you doing?” Mac asks.

“He’s not letting _up,_ ” Dennis growls. “Jesus dude, did you promise him like the mother of all blowjobs or something? Why is he still here?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Mac whines. “I thought for sure telling him about the shower scene we did for ‘Lethal Weapon’ was gonna work - “

“ _You told him that_?”

“Yeah, you were - you were right there dude!”

“Jesus - okay. Okay.”

He steels himself and glances over at their table. Greg is still there, watching them carefully. He steps back a little so that he’s directly in Greg’s eye line.

“Alright just… follow my lead,” he tells Mac. “Keep your face neutral, okay?”

Mac nods and actually listens, staring evenly back at Dennis. Dennis cups Mac’s face in his hands, and sees a brief glimpse of shock in his eyes. He takes a deep breath, pulls Mac towards him gently and kisses him.

There’s a long moment where Mac is frozen. Their mouths are clumsily pressed together in a way that is not at all believable of two people who had once been “lovers”. Dennis pulls back, steps closer and kisses him again, head tilting to slot their lips together more firmly. Mac responds enthusiastically then. His hands move to Dennis’ hips, yanking him closer and kissing him a little desperately, making Dennis gasp against his mouth. Mac’s cheeks are warm under his hands, and he lets one of them trail back to card through Mac’s hair, mussing up the gel. A helpless noise escapes from deep within him as Mac bites his bottom lip gently, soothing over it with his tongue. His hands fall to clutch at Mac’s chest, pulling him in closer with handfuls of his shirt.

Mac leans back to breathe, but he doesn’t go far, sharing Dennis’ breath and leaning his forehead against his. Dennis’ head feels like cotton, hazy and warm, and he closes his eyes and presses a brief kiss to Mac’s lips before he can think twice about it.

“Oh for fuck - he’s still here,” Mac hisses.

Dennis’ head clears a little at the unwelcome reminder. He twists around in Mac’s arms to see Greg watching them, mouth gaping a little, but very much still there.

“Jesus _Christ_ \- can someone just shoot him or something, please?” Dennis snaps. “How is he still here?”

He shuffles around to disentangle himself and tell the dude to fuck off, but Mac holds him firm.

“Mac, let me - “

“Let’s just go,” Mac says softly.

Dennis pauses. Mac is staring at him, vulnerable and open and a little scared, like Dennis is going to disappear if he lets him out of his grasp. Dennis’ hands trail back to the nape of his neck; he feels Mac shudder.

“I thought you wanted to let him down gently,” Dennis teases.

“I can just find a new gym,” Mac shrugs, cheeks pink.

“But you said - “

Mac kisses him, and the rest of his sentence is lost.

“Let’s go home,” Mac murmurs against his mouth. Dennis can feel his smile as he kisses him back, and doesn’t bother to check if Greg is still there when they leave.

-

 

 

 


	18. oh god, he's serious

-

All Dee wanted was a beer.

Just _one_ goddamn beer to take the edge off after three hours of an intense passive aggressive volume fight with her piece of shit new neighbor. Her TV had reached eighty-seven decibels before she finally caved and stormed out, but not without a little gift. The strategically placed hard boiled egg would show him who was boss around the complex.

Now, she’s treated to the sound of Charlie periodically beating his rat stick against the walls every few minutes to “flush out a nest”, and to her brother obnoxiously texting with his volume turned _on_ like the lunatic he is. Frank cracking peanuts next to her is somehow the least irritating thing in her life right now.

“ _Charlie_ ,” she bites out after a particularly earsplitting scraping when the barbed wire drags along the wooden floor. “Can you please just give it a rest?”

“Oh, give it a rest? ‘ _Give it a rest_ ’, she says? Sure Dee, why _don’t_ I just ‘give it a rest’, and we’ll all wait with our thumbs up our asses for the inevitable swarm - “

“Charlie - “

“‘Give it a _rest_ ’ -“ BANG.

She kneads her temples, tension headache bleeding into her eyes.

“Charlie!”

“Like she’s not going to come crying to me when they start to nest in her hair - “ BANG.

“Just let him work, Dee,” Mac pipes in.

She glares and his eyes flick over to her innocently, like she hadn’t just caught him staring at Dennis again.

“Why are you even here?” Mac adds, flushing pink and draining the last of his beer.

“The same goddamn reason you are, I needed a beer.”

Mac scoffs. “I’m here because I _work_ here.”

“Right, you’re working _so_ hard at three pm on a Thursday,” she snaps sarcastically. “You’re here because you and Dennis have been following each other around like pathetic little lost puppies now that you’re fu -  “

_BANG!_

_“Charlie!”_

This time it’s Dennis’ voice echoing angrily around the bar, cheeks red and eyes dangerous, though it’s Dee he’s glaring at. Charlie pauses, and his hands fall to his hips petutantly.

“I don’t think any of you actually _get_ what I’m doing here - “

“Just take a break, alright?” Dennis says exasperatedly, shoulders drooping as his anger recedes. He glances shiftily at Mac and avoids everyone else’s eyes. “The rats aren’t goddamn going anywhere.”

Charlie sighs but finally drops the bat, albeit dramatically. Dee winces at the clanging sound as it rattles around on the floor before it settles and takes another long gulp, closing her eyes as she swallows. The resulting quiet eases her nerves a bit; she’s able to tune out Frank’s chewing and Dennis’ typing if she concentrates.

“Do you think I should shave my beard?” Charlie asks out of nowhere.

“Why on earth would you do that?” Frank asks around a mouth full of peanuts. Dennis and Mac have twin looks of disgust on their face.

“Jesus, close your mouth dude.”

“I think I’d look more distinguished,” Charlie muses. “Maybe a little more… intellectual.”

“You’re a janitor,” Dennis points out flatly.

“Janitors can be distinguished!” Charlie cries, voice pitched as high as it can go. Dee’s head throbs right behind her left eye, and that finally drives her over the edge.

“Oh my god, _stop_ ,” Dee pleads. “Just stop, I am _not_ drunk enough for this. Dennis get me another beer.”

“Get it yourself, bitch. You’re the waitress.”

“ _You’re_ behind the bar, just grab me one.”

Dennis rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to his phone and ignoring Dee’s outstretched hand.

“By the way, only serial killers leave the volume on their phone on, asshole. Grab me a goddamn beer, they’re right next to you!”

Dennis’ eyes trail slowly back to Dee’s, flashing dangerously. She looks steadily back. Dennis puts down his phone and reaches for the beer, movements slow and deliberate. He smirks, and just as the bottle is almost in her grasp, he swiftly pivots around and gives it to Mac. He opens it and sets it down in front of Mac, smoothly picking up his empty bottle and disposing of it for him.

Charlie and Frank laugh, tossing in the usual bird insults while Dennis smugly leans an elbow on Mac’s side of the bar and grins at him.

Mac’s voice is a little mocking and sugary sweet when he coos, “Aw, that was sweet, thank you babe. I love you.”

Frank and Charlie have stopped laughing, and Dee can almost see the way the air in the bar changes when Dennis freezes, gaping at Mac. Mac is smiling to himself and looking down at his beer and doesn’t seem to notice the dopey, dewey eyed way Dennis is staring at him. Dee sighs and leans over the bar, fetching the beer herself while her brother is distracted, struggling through the five stages of repressed gay realization or some shit.

“Oh god, he’s serious,” Charlie mumbles ominously down the bar.

Mac blinks up at the sound of Charlie’s voice, then turns his attention to Dennis, who’s stood eerily still.

“Den? You okay?”

Mac watches him carefully, eyebrows pinched together in concern.

“You - uh, you’ve never - _we’ve_ never said… that,” Dennis chokes out after a long moment, voice tight in the way Dee knows means he’s trying to control his emotions, or possibly (probably) holding back tears.

Mac’s eyebrows furrow deeper, frowning as he thinks it over.

“Yeah I have,” he says confidently.

“No, you _haven’t_ Mac,” Dennis argues tightly, sounding irritated now. “I would remember.”

“I’m pretty sure I have,” Mac says stubbornly. Dennis may sound annoyed but he’s still looking at Mac all disgustingly lovestruck, like he’s never actually seen him before. “Remember when we were banging in the kitchen two weeks ago?”   
  
“Oh Jesus Christ, _again_ ,” Frank mutters, shaking his head. Dee and Charlie’s mouths twist in disgust.

Mac ignores them and continues. “I’m like, ninety percent sure I said it then, and you - oh wait! Maybe you just didn’t hear me over the - “

Dennis launches himself across the bar, grabs Mac’s face, and pulls him into a hard kiss.

“Goddammit guys - “ Charlie swears, leaping out of the way as Mac’s elbow knocks over his beer and it spills onto Charlie’s lap.

Charlie’s outburst goes ignored as her brother attempts to eat Mac’s face. Frank remains relatively stoic, barely glancing up from his bowl of peanuts.

“Come here,” Dee hears Dennis mutter to Mac amid the commotion from Charlie. Mac clambers off his stool and around the bar, and Dennis wastes no time pushing him into the liquor shelf behind them and resumes sucking his face.

Dee leans over the bar again and grabs another bottle, cracking it open and handing it to Frank without a word. He clinks his bottle against hers and they both take a long swig. Dee closes her eyes, exhales happily and revels in her first moment of peace all day.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by [this](https://hyruling.tumblr.com/post/184788416817/tough-mac-this-is-the-sunny-liberals-want) <3


	19. are you hurt?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cw for mild reference to self harm

 - 

Mac still has dirt in his shoes from the cemetery, stubbornly caked in the soles and seemingly cemented there. Rather than deal with it he kicks them off, grimacing when clumps spread onto the floor in the entryway. He shrugs it off and pads further into the apartment, focused on finding Dennis. Dee had spent ten minutes bringing him back down. She’d whispered to him in surprisingly soothing tones and let him clutch at her arms, and snapped at anyone that tried to interrupt them. Eventually Dennis had wrenched himself away from her and disappeared. Dee told Mac to leave it, and turned her attention back to ripping Frank a new one. Mac and Charlie finally intervened when it escalated to Dee pushing Frank into the open grave and threatening to bury him alive.

He finds him in Mac’s bedroom, of all places, crumpled and frail looking with red rimmed eyes. He’s curled up on his side on the bed, cradling his wrist in his hand and rubbing over the skin in even, rhythmic motions. 

“Are you hurt?”   
  
His voice is hushed. Dennis focuses his attention on him then, fixing him with a blank and vaguely surprised look, like he just noticed he was there. 

“What?” His voice is hoarse. 

“Your wrist.” 

Dennis glances down. With his hand out of the way Mac can see how red the skin of his wrist is, rubbed raw from god knows how long of kneading at it. 

“Shit, Den,” he hisses, crossing the few steps to the bed. The bed dips where he sits, and Dennis slides a little closer to him. Dennis offers him his wrist without complaint, barely flinches when Mac traces a finger over the too warm skin. 

This is the cost of Dennis with feelings; this is the bitter trade off that he doesn’t know how to reconcile. He hates the dead eyed zombie Dennis becomes when he bottles things up, when he aggressively pretends not to feel anything, but at least when Dennis is suppressing his emotions Mac doesn’t find him like this. Detached, with bruised or bleeding skin, with bags under his eyes and mascara stains on his cheeks. 

Without a word, Mac gets up and finds the aloe he keeps in the apartment for nights like this. Dennis holds his wrist out again without a fuss when he returns. Mac perches on the edge of the bed and spreads some onto his fingers, then gently starts applying it to Dennis’ skin. Dennis’ nose wrinkles; he hates the smell. It almost makes Mac smile. 

It’s not so bad tonight. He massages Dennis’ red skin as gently as he can, but it’s no worse than the Chinese burns he and Charlie used to give each other in elementary school. He’s seen worse. 

“You want ibuprofen?” Mac asks once he’s finished. He doesn’t let go of his wrist. 

“Don’t need it,” Dennis answers softly. 

“Okay.”   
  
Mac presses his thumb into his skin, not so subtly checking his pulse. It’s unusually steady. Satisfied, he moves to stand and give him some space. Dennis grabs hold of his arm before he can get too far. 

He’s gotten pretty good at reading Dennis on these nights. If he finds him in his own room or on the fire escape, he knows to leave him alone. If he finds him in the bathroom or in Mac’s room, he knows to stay. Sometimes on those nights, Dennis will kiss him. Sometimes, he’ll ask Mac to kiss him first. And god help him, Mac always gives in, helpless to the way Dennis looks at him in those moments. 

He’s looking at Mac like that now. His heart thuds like the ocean in his ears; he wonders if Dennis can feel it with the way his fingers are digging into Mac’s wrist. 

“Don’t,” Dennis croaks. “Don’t go.” 

“You sure?” 

Dennis nods. Mac gently tugs his arm from Dennis’ death grip. He crawls onto the other side of the bed and Dennis follows him with his entire body, curling against him the moment Mac is settled on his side. 

Mac’s hands find his hair automatically, stroking through curls while Dennis trembles against him. He know’s he’s crying again, can feel tears wet his shirt. Mac is quiet, even as the shakes get worse, and his hands fist in Mac’s shirt. He shifts in Mac’s arms and his hands find Mac’s neck. 

“Mac, I’m - I need - “

It’s wet when Mac kisses him, and salty, but he doesn’t care. He lets Dennis bite his lips, and dig his nails in his neck, and breathe harshly against his mouth him when they separate. He lets Dennis pull him back in, powerless and pliant and guilty, because it’s so _good_. It feels better than almost anything he’s ever done, and he can’t make himself stop, and he tells himself it’s for Dennis’ sake, that it’s the only way to calm the storm, and resolutely ignores the little voice that contradicts him when Dennis’ tongue slides along his and he moans. And it’s just to ground him when Mac rolls Dennis onto his back. It’s just to anchor him when he presses his body into his. It’s just to distract him when his lips trail down Dennis’ jaw to his throat. 

Gradually, Dennis calms. His hands slow, slide lazily through Mac’s hair and down his chest, and he relaxes back onto the mattress, no longer straining up to press as closely against Mac as humanly possible. Mac presses his lips to his again anyway, greedy, sighing when Dennis kisses back rather than pushes him away. 

Not for the first time, he wonders if this is the reason Dennis buries his feelings. He wonders who Dennis would be if he didn’t, and who _he_ would be, and what that would make them. He wonders if Dennis would still want to kiss him, wonders if he always wants to anyway, if he burns for him and suffocates the way Mac does, if that makes him the same as Dennis.

Dennis pushes against Mac’s chest until he rolls off of him, settling back into the position they started in. Dennis’ eyes flutter closed, and his breathing finally evens out. The skin of his wrist has already faded to a dull pink. Mac ducks his head before he can think better of it and presses his lips to it, tasting the bitter tinge of aloe. Dennis stirs but pretends to sleep, and Mac pretends to ignore the way his pulse jumps under his lips. 

-


	20. morning sweetheart

-

He wakes to a soft snuffling sound next to him. He groans irritably and rolls over to silence whatever woke him, and then a familiar sigh makes his insides squirm and feel warm all over in a way he still can’t get used to. 

Dennis is on his back, head tilted towards Mac, arm closest to him crooked above his head. His mouth is parted slightly, and two messy curls are falling over his forehead. He looks so uncharacteristically peaceful that Mac can’t take his eyes off of him for a long time. 

Thunder starts grumbling off in the distance after awhile of Mac just watching Dennis breathe, savoring the moment for as long as he can. He doesn’t really know where Dennis’ head is these days. He’s been holding his breath for what feels like months, but this is the seventh morning in a row they’ve woken up together; the seventh morning in a row that Dennis stayed. 

Dennis sniffs and twitches his nose, and suddenly Mac can’t stand the foot of space between them. Slowly he inches closer, careful not to jostle the bed too much. He tangles their legs together first, wedging his right knee between Dennis’. Dennis grunts and rolls his neck straight but doesn’t wake. Mac painstakingly reaches his arm across Dennis’ chest, grinning when Dennis hums happily in his sleep. 

“You ever gonna hug me properly or what?”

Mac starts, swearing quietly to himself, heart leaping to his throat. Dennis’ eyes are still closed, and he has a little ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“Goddammit, Dennis,” Mac mutters, head falling onto Dennis’ shoulder as he breathes through his panic.

“Good morning to you too,” Dennis responds, definitely smiling now but still not opening his eyes. “C’mere.” 

And that’s all that Mac needs. He shuffles closer, lets his hand trace over Dennis’ chest and buries his face in his neck. He can smell Dennis’ shampoo on the pillow.  

“Morning sweetheart,” Mac says quietly. Dennis’ skin is warm where he kisses him, from sleep or from the blush probably creeping up his neck.

Dennis rolls onto his side, pulling Mac tight against him as he does. Mac presses his lips to Dennis’ pulse point softly, then noses back down to his collarbone and closes his eyes. 

They drift off again for awhile. The thunder rumbles louder. Rain eventually starts to drum on their window, and Dennis is warm and the slow rise and fall of his chest lulls Mac back into an easy sleep. 

“Mac. Hey.” 

“No.”

Dennis chuckles, and runs his hands over Mac’s back in an effort to rouse him. 

“We need to cancel our Phillies tickets. They’re not gonna play in this storm.” 

“Wha’ever,” Mac mumbles against Dennis’ shirt. “We jus’ won’ go.” 

“We won’t get our money back,” Dennis explains. “Come on baby, just let me reach my phone.” 

Mac whines but manages to drag himself away. Dennis stretches behind him to grab his phone. He makes quick work of cancelling, because less than two minutes later he’s crawling onto Mac’s lap and leaning down to kiss him awake. 

“Hi,” he whispers, grinning against Mac’s mouth. “Tickets are cancelled.” 

“Good,” Mac mutters. He winds his arms around Dennis’ back and kisses him again, rolling his hips up to meet Dennis’, smiling when Dennis gasps. 

“What are we gonna do instead?” Mac asks, lazily trailing his hands under Dennis’ shirt. 

Dennis smiles, presses one last soft kiss to his mouth, and then he climbs off Mac’s lap and lays back on his side. Mac curls around him like a comma and kisses his hair, the back of his neck. 

“Happy one week,” Mac murmurs, glad he can’t see Dennis’ face as he does. Dennis huffs out a little laugh, but there’s nothing malicious in it. He nestles back closer to Mac and lays his hand over Mac’s that’s curled over his stomach. 

“You too, Mac.” 

-


	21. is this a date?

-

“So does this - is this like a date now?” 

“What are you talking about?” Dennis asks distractedly, barely looking up from where he’s perusing the check. He clicks the pen absently. Mac bristles; it took him fifteen minutes to work up the nerve to ask the question, and he’s barely even paying attention. “What’s ten percent of a hundred and fifty?”

“Holy shit - a hundred and _fifty_?” Mac asks incredulously. He forgets his nerves entirely and yanks the black book from Dennis to check for himself. 

“The wine alone cost eighty, dude, what did you expect?” Dennis replies calmly. He pulls out his phone, one of those fancy new ones with the touch screen. He’d already yelled at Mac more than once about his fingerprints. “I think there’s a calculator on here, hang on.” 

“Is that - did you steal Frank’s card?” he asks weakly, eyes reading over the numbers over and over like they’re going to change. 

“No, it’s mine.” 

He looks up from his phone and laughs at Mac’s expression. “It’s _fine_ , Mac, seriously. I can afford it.”

“But - you just bought that phone, how can you - ?”

Dennis flushes a little and Mac’s attention is immediately drawn to it. Dennis can be so goddamn distracting. 

“It’s always this expensive, Mac,” Dennis answers a little irritably. His eyes drop back to his phone, and he shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “I - save up a little every month. It’s not a big deal.” 

“Dennis,” Mac says. It comes out a little breathier than he’d intended. 

“Just - let me tip so we can go,” Dennis responds. His fingers brush Mac’s as he snatches the check holder back. 

Dennis signs the receipt and is out of his seat before Mac can blink. The napkin in his lap falls to the floor as he scrambles to follow him outside. He remembers, almost as an afterthought, to retrieve their coats that Dennis had bypassed without a glance. 

He finds him shivering on the sidewalk, struggling to light a cigarette. 

“Jesus, fuck,” he swears as Mac comes up next to him. 

“Here,” Mac says. He takes the unlit cigarette and lighter from him and pockets them both. He holds out Dennis’ coat and gestures for him to turn around. 

Dennis watches him, eyes a little wide, until a particularly strong shudder goes through him. He turns, opening his arms for Mac to ease his coat over his shoulders. 

He’s still not sure how much he’s allowed to touch. It’s been three weeks since Dennis kissed him. He’s maybe ninety percent sure they’re gonna bang when they get home, but he still hesitates a little before reaching out to button Dennis’ coat, half expecting Dennis to push him away. 

Dennis lets him, eyes a little hooded and so blue in the light from the streetlamp. 

“What did you ask me earlier?”

“Hm?”

“Something about a date?” 

Mac freezes, the button he was doing up popping back open. 

“Uh, nothing. Forget it.” 

“If it’s nothing why are you blushing?” Dennis asks, and there it is, the same smug grin he’d had on his face the first time, like he knew exactly how badly Mac wanted it. 

“Why are _you_?” Mac snaps defensively. 

“Because I want to do _this_.” 

Mac’s fingers curl in his coat as Dennis’ lips brush his. It’s chaste, barely any pressure, like Dennis is giving him the option to pull back. 

He does, barely suppressing a grin when he catches sight of the disappointment written all over Dennis’ face. He pushes with the hands still fisted in Dennis’ jacket until they’re in the partially secluded alley, pressing him against the wall and kissing him hard. 

Dennis grunts, and he shivers as his cold hands thread through his hair, pulling him closer and opening his mouth under Mac’s insistent tongue. He still can’t believe he gets to do this, that the heady feeling he gets from kissing Dennis hasn’t abated at all, still makes his stomach dip and his blood sing. 

“Easy, baby boy,” Dennis murmurs against his lips after a minute. He’s smiling lazily at him, hands coming to cup his cheeks. “Let’s go home.” 

“Den _nis_ ,” Mac whines, pressing his lips to Dennis’ neck. 

“Home,” Dennis insists. He pushes him off, but his hand immediately threads through one of Mac’s too soothe the sting. He pulls them back to the sidewalk, and this time Mac doesn’t bitch once about how far they had to park the car. 

-


	22. truth or dare?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt:   
> I swear, if you say another word, I’ll leave.  
> &  
> I’m not playing truth or dare.

“Mac.” 

Mac freezes, lips still forming the words of the half-finished verse he was reading. Dennis is standing in the doorway, looking angry and dejected. 

“What are you doing in here dude?” Mac asks cautiously. “Thought you’d be -“

“Didn’t pan out,” Dennis answers loudly before Mac can finish the thought. He steps further inside and closes the door behind him. Mac can’t remember the last time he was in here voluntarily, and feels wildly off balance watching him casually pick up and drop a bodybuilder magazine on his dresser. “Jesus, this room is still a shithole. You really need to figure out a new decorative motif.”

“A what? That’s not even a real word, Dennis.” Mac closes the bible, carefully setting it next to him along with his figurine. 

Dennis doesn’t respond, spends a few minutes idly looking around Mac’s room. His arms are crossed awkwardly, and he looks smaller than usual in his hoodie. 

“So,” Mac begins when Dennis continues to hover silently. “What uh, what are you doing in here man?” 

Dennis glances over at him then goes back to examining the cross on the wall like it’s a particularly fascinating news article, or whatever the shit Dennis is always reading on his phone. Mac would almost buy it, except it’s Dennis, and he’s had the exact same cross since high school. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I mean, you never come in here,” Mac says simply, ignoring the sharp pang in his chest. “And you were so excited about this idea, about having a chick here to -“

“It didn’t work out,” Dennis repeats tersely. “So I need to - I’m staying in here tonight.” 

“No,” Mac answers immediately. Dennis frowns, clearly taken aback. “No, dude, this is my room, where am I supposed to sleep?”

“I never said -“

“No, fuck that, I’m not sleeping on the floor of my own goddamn room, Dennis,” Mac cuts him off. Dennis gapes like a fish out of water for a second, but Mac doesn’t let him get a word in. “I’m so tired dude, I worked my ass off cleaning this place for this stupid scheme -“

“Mac!” Dennis snaps. “I didn’t say you had to leave, or sleep on the floor. Fucking calm down dude.” 

Mac blinks. He looks around blankly, landing for a minute on the bike, which Dennis has pointedly given a wide berth. 

“So… _you’re_ gonna sleep on the floor?” Mac asks. 

Dennis rolls his eyes. “No.” 

Then, without another word, he strides over and lays on Mac’s bed like he’s done it a million times. Only there’s no way that anyone would believe that based on the tight, uncomfortable way he holds himself, staring at the ceiling with a scowl on his face. Carefully, Mac slides down the bed and turns on his side. He watches Dennis quietly for a moment, then dissolves into a fit of laughter.

“What?” Dennis asks without looking. Mac laughs harder, and the frown lines on Dennis’ face become more prominent. 

“Nothing,” Mac assures him. He nestles a little into his pillow. “You just - you should see yourself dude. You look like you’ve never laid on a bed in your life.”

“Well, maybe you should think about investing in a second goddamn pillow, Mac,” Dennis answers waspishly. “Or sheets that fit your bed. Or -“

“It’s not like I was expecting company tonight!” Mac argues. “Get off my dick, bro.”

“No one’s ever gonna get _on_ your dick with a bed like this, Mac,” Dennis snaps, though there’s a faint smile on his face now. “It looks like a crime scene for fuck’s sake.” 

“Whatever, we’ll just slam at his place when I meet someone,” Mac retorts with a grin. He feels light, breathing easier than he’d have expected to even a week ago in a situation like this. This feels easy, feels normal. He can’t remember the last time they had a conversation without something dark and ugly creeping in between the lines. 

Dennis’ face pinches, faint almost smile fading. “Right.” 

They fall silent. Dennis closes his eyes, making no effort to get more comfortable, so Mac doesn’t think he’s trying to sleep.

“You going to sleep?” he whispers. 

“It’s nine-thirty, Mac,” Dennis answers without opening his eyes. 

Mac nods, toying with the corner of the bible between them. “I’m uh… sorry it didn’t work out, tonight.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, really, I know how much you wanted to, you know -“

“I said it’s fine.” 

Mac hesitates at the tone. Dennis is putting off some very clear ‘don’t push it’ signals, and for once he listens. Something about the vulnerability of Dennis in his bed, within arms reach for the first time since he got back from North Dakota, keeps him quiet. 

“Want to play a game?” Mac suggests hesitantly. 

Dennis exhales loudly through his nose. “Fine.”

“Okay, uh… twenty questions?”

“You suck at twenty questions. No.” 

“Okay. Would you rather?”

“No.”

“Ooh! Truth or dare?”

“ _No_ ,” Dennis says emphatically.

“Come on, you can’t agree and then shoot them all down.” 

“I’m _not_ playing truth or dare.” 

“Don’t be a pussy Dennis, come on, truth or -“

“I swear, if you say another word, I’ll leave.” 

Mac huffs. “So what, you wanna just stare at the ceiling for the next five hours?” 

There’s a sudden burst of giggling from their living room, followed by a deeper rumble of laughter. Dennis tenses next to him. Right. They’re not alone. 

“You know, it didn’t work out for me either, bro,” Mac says, more gently than he intended. “Really thought they were brother and sister.” 

“Yeah, well, you never know,” Dennis says tightly. “They still could be.”

“Can’t believe he turned out to be straight,” Mac grouses. 

“Mmm,” Dennis hums noncommittally. His mouth curves into a self satisfied half smirk. 

“Wait…” Mac says slowly. Dennis tries to rearrange his smile into something neutral but its too late. “You knew he was straight?” 

“No,” Dennis says. He’s usually a better liar than this. 

“Yes you did!” Mac cries. He pushes up onto an elbow to point accusingly. “You _knew_ he was straight and you let me hit on him like an idiot!”

“Of course I knew!” Dennis answers, almost laughing at him now. Dennis rolls over to look at him properly, mirroring his position on one elbow. “And you _are_ an idiot. Your gaydar is shit, dude.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mac demands. “What did you possibly get out of cockblocking me?” 

“I didn’t _cockblock_ , Mac, he’s not even gay.”

“Right! Which _you_ didn’t tell me, meaning I didn’t get laid - also known as: cockblocking!” Dennis sighs, and his nonchalance about it makes Mac’s anger spike hot in his throat. 

“It’s not my job to tell you who’s straight or not, Mac, Jesus.“

“No, but you didn’t have to encourage me,” Mac says hotly. “Fuck, Dennis, it’s like you don’t want me to -“

He clamps his mouth shut, hard enough to bite his tongue. A beat, then two of Dennis just staring at him. His eyes widen a little, and he looks ready to bolt. Mac watches as he swallows and sets his jaw. 

“Want.” Pause. “Want you to what?” Dennis finishes, voice soft and a little unstable.  

Mac suddenly can’t look directly at him. His eyes shift to Dennis’ shoulder and find a loose thread that he fixates on. 

“You know what,” he tells Dennis’ shoulder. 

It’s silent after that. He doesn’t look at Dennis, resolutely stares at the thread, wonders what Dennis might do if he were to tug on it. If the fabric would unravel, if it would spill neatly apart into Mac’s waiting hands. Or if it would tear apart, make it irreparable. 

Eventually Dennis simply lays back down, and rolls onto his other side, his back to Mac. He shifts and fidgets, clearly uncomfortable with his head on his elbow. He’s still wearing his shoes and jeans, and Mac wants to point it out, but surely Dennis already knows. 

“You gonna share the pillow or what?” Dennis mumbles irritably. 

“Oh. Um.” 

Mac pushes the Bible and figurine out of the way and shuffles forward. Dennis lifts his head and Mac pushes the pillow forward. Dennis’ head lands on it with a soft ‘thump’. Mac holds his breath; Dennis just lays there, doesn’t try to take the whole pillow or push Mac away. Slowly he exhales, stirring one of the curls at the nape of Dennis’ neck. 

Carefully, Mac kicks off his shoes and reaches down to tug his thin comforter off the floor and over them. Dennis still doesn’t move except to pull the blanket more securely over his shoulder. He flicks off the lamp and settles back onto the pillow, close enough to Dennis to smell his shampoo, but not close enough to touch. 

And it’s fine. It’s more than Dennis has given him in years, permission to exist in the same space as him, to be close to him, and it’s enough. Mac drifts off after a few minutes, falling into an easy sleep with Dennis warm beside him. He wakes up around three am to find Dennis is still there, pressed close against his back, bony chin resting between Mac’s shoulder blades. Dennis’ arms are carefully wedged between Mac’s back and his chest, but he can feel Dennis’ bare feet brushing his ankle as he shifts in his sleep. Dennis will pretend it never happened when they wake up, but Mac will remember, and the memory of Dennis’ soft breathes against his neck will keep him going for a long time. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [xo](http://hyruling.tumblr.com)


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